


The Moth & The Flame

by AvaloyuruGeovaughni



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 98,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaloyuruGeovaughni/pseuds/AvaloyuruGeovaughni
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, Thranduil finds the world within his Halls empty.  He struggles to come to terms with the absence of his only child and the loss of the one he raised as if she were his own daughter.  He begins to realize that what he feels for Tauriel is more than a fatherly affection.  Having publicly banished her, could he or should he try to get her back?  What of Legolas, now departed for the north?  Would he return?  What of the feelings his son still harbors in his own heart for the young beautiful former Captain of the Guard?  If he acts on his feelings, will the rift between them grow wider?  Thranduil decides to follow his heart.





	1. A Royal Escort

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien’s world, Middle-Earth, or any of its associated characters or geographical locations. I receive no form of compensation monetarily or otherwise from this work of fan-fiction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being banished from her home by the King, the only father she had ever known and then abandoned by Legolas, Tauriel sought seclusion among the kindred Wood elves of Lórinand. Unfortunately, her solitude was short lived as the King himself arrives to escort her back to Mirkwood.

The rustic two-story building serving as both an Inn and Dining Hall sat comfortably nestled in a grove of tall evergreens, sheltered beneath the outer edges of the leafy canopy of the Vellanräé and Malinornë trees. The evening had grown late and most of Lórinand had retreated to their tree top homes or faded back into the surrounding Vales.

Tauriel sat quietly, just staring at the flames in the hearth that dominated the far wall of the main dining area. Fleeing Mirkwood, she had hoped to find solitude amongst the Wood elves, yet the ache in her heart had only grown deeper. Truly alone with nothing but her memories of the only home she had ever known and the love she found only to lose. She knew there was no going back, even without having been banished, her betrayal of Legolas had caused a rift between him and his father, a pain she knew he would never forgive.

Frowning as someone stepped close yet just outside her vision, she became aware that the soft hum of conversation had faded suddenly into silence. 

“Please don’t make a scene Tauriel.” The young Woodland guard said softly, making no move to come closer to her.

“Where is he?” She demanded more than asked as she continued to stare into the hearth. She knew without looking it was Eluandúnië. He was the youngest of the kings’ personal guard and a Silvan elf like herself.

“The king is tending to other business.” He told her quietly as he finally stepped closer, standing between her and the hearth. “He will join us in morning, for now you will come with us.” He added, his voice remained quiet yet his tone was firm.

“I am going nowhere with you.” She stated, nearly jumping to her feet as she turned toward the main entrance. “Damn it!” She hissed beneath her breath as she turned away from Rínnänéth, only to find herself staring at the stoic face of Macilvoronhûr, both of which were members of the kings’ personal guard. Glancing around the large main room, her heart sank as she noted only a few Wood elves cleaning the tables and the worried Sambetur (Keeper of the Hall) were all that remained.

“I need to gather my things.” She stated as she turned back to face him angrily, ignoring the sadness and the warning in his soft green eyes.

“Glaurhalbër has already taken them back to the Vale, now come.” He told her, waving his hand in front of him indicating that she lead the way toward the back entrance.

“Aldalómë?” She asked, turning away from him to walk slowly toward the entrance.

“He awaits us at the Vale.” He replied, moving close behind her.

~*~

“She must be very important to you Eshë.”(Friend-Trusted Ally) Gilaiwë said quietly, reaching up to tuck a few stray strands of his hair behind his ear and caress his cheek.

“I have been her protector since she was but an elfling.” Thranduil sighed as he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “She is young and irrational, I wish only to return her to her home.” He added, burying his face in the warmth of her neck.

“It is easy to do when you love someone.” She mused as she drew her nails up across the naked flesh of his back, smiling as she felt him shiver.

“Love?!” He nearly blurted as he pulled back from her, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her.

“Why else would you personally come to retrieve her?” She laughed, tilting her head as she stared back at him inquisitively, her soft blue eyes dancing with laughter.

“Gilaiwë, to me she is but a child, I feel responsible for her.” He groaned as he leaned down, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss that turned hungry as he felt her body pressing tighter against his own.

“Perhaps I just wanted to see you again.” He said quietly, a soft lilt of humor resonated in his deep tone as he pulled back from her.

A playful mischief dancing in his eyes as he moved lower, gently sucking a small nipple into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he flicked the tiny bud with tip of his tongue, enjoying the soft moans that escaped her throat as he teased her relentlessly. Releasing it as he felt her fingers tangle themselves in his hair, he moved to the other one, his fingers quickly replacing his lips on the other. Smiling to himself as he trailed his kisses, lower down her taut stomach as he settled himself between her thighs. Grasping her hips gently yet firmly, he drew his tongue teasingly along the inside of her sex before pressing his lips at the apex. Encircling the small pearl with his lips, he suckled gently as he pleasured her with the tip of his tongue. Moving upward only when her groans became more demanding as she thrust against him, he pressed into her warmth. 

Wrapping her arms around him as he entered her, she hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his chest. Breathing in the scent of him, she listened to the soft moans boiling in his chest and throat as he moved against her, taking her with him. Arching toward him, she met his thrusts with a hunger that matched his as he built the tension between them. Clinging to him tightly as she felt him stiffen, his breath coming in ragged gasps, she held him as he found his release. Smiling as he collapsed against her, she continued to hold him as she gently stroked his hair. 

They were as much kindred Fäë (Spirit) now as they were long ago, with no care for orthodox ways. She was of noble birth as was he, yet with many brothers and sisters, she had been spared the ordeal of a forced arranged marriage that he as his father’s only heir had endured. There had been many an elleth (Elf maiden) that had warmed his bed over the many long years since he had lived here for a time as a carefree young prince. Yet, as his first, it was always Gilaiwë whose light burned the brightest in his memories.

The room had darkened as all but one of the tall tappers had flickered out into puddles of melted of wax in their holders. Even the hearth had darkened, casting an almost eerie ember glow about the room as they lay silently, their bodies still entwined on the bed.

“Do you have to go so soon?” Gilaiwë whispered, her arm still held him possessively as she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“I am afraid I do.” He sighed, one hand absently stroking her hair gently as he caressed the soft flesh of her naked bottom with the other. “Even departing at first light we will have to make camp at least once before entering the forest. If we encounter the shelob (spiders), I do not wish to do so at night.” 

“You must find a way to let me know you have arrived safely.” She told him as she moved on top of him, clasping his face in her hands. “I shall be afraid for you until I hear from you.”

“I will be fine Eshë.”(Friend-Trusted Ally). He told her as he pulled her face closer, kissing her lips tenderly. “It should take no more than two days. I will send word through Gléril, (A Raven) he will remember you and he is swift.”

It had been too long since they had been able to spend any length of time together, the growing evil from the north had made travel too dangerous. Knowing there was nothing she could say that would make him stay, Gilaiwë kissed him softly and reluctantly released him. Watching him as he slipped out of the bed, she admired his body as he walked toward the small table that held a copper basin and a pitcher of water. Broad shouldered with a sender waist and well-toned muscles from different battles, he was tall like his mother who was Iathrim, a descendant of the Vanyar, giving him the sapphire eyes and long golden hair so pale that it appeared silver in the sunlight.

“I have already sent word to have supplies taken to the Vale for your journey.” She told him as she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees as she drew them toward her breasts. Smiling as she watched him wash quickly.

“Thoughtful as always.” He said, flashing her a smile as he turned to his riding clothes neatly hung over the back of a nearby chair.

“My annual sojourn to the Grey Mountains is in four moons.” She said quietly, still watching him as if she wanted to commit every detail to memory, although she would know his face anywhere.

“I wish you would forego your trip.” He stated, casting her a grim expression as he pulled on his leggings. “It is not safe.”

“We will take the Anduin and travel by foot once we reach the Langwell Fork at Greylin.” She stated, stubbornly meeting his gaze with her own willfulness.

Sighing heavily as he pulled on his riding tunic, he felt fear for her rising in his gut. While the shelob (spiders) did not leave the cover of the forest, there were still goblin forces and errant orcs living in the deeper caverns and tunnels within the Misty Mountains. They were not known for attacking ships along Anduin but it was not something he would wager on.

“I need to know you are safe Gilaiwë.” He said sternly as he walked back toward her. “I mean it, I cannot lose you too.” He said, his voice softening as he sank down onto the bed, pulling her into his lap.

“Thranduil.” She stated quietly but firmly as she took his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “It is not truly safe anywhere. Whatever this evil is, it has paid no attention to Lórinand because we are far too small and too few to pose a threat. The day will come when I will journey to the Grey Mountains to join my family and stay where I can live in peace, but that time is not now.”

“Please try to understand.” She told him softly when he remained silent, staring at her as a sadness crept into the depths of his sapphire eyes.

“You give me no choice.” He sighed as he hugged her tightly before turning to lay her back onto the bed. His expression grew grim as he leaned forward to retrieve his riding boots. “We both have our duties.” He said as he pulled them on and rose to his feet, turning to flash a huge smile at her.

“Come here.” He chuckled, holding his arms out to her. “Just because I do not like something does not mean I do not understand.” He said as he wrapped his arms around her, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss. Without another word he released her and turned away, striding purposefully out of her bed chamber. He wanted that image of her and those last few moments together to live in his memory until the next time he saw her.

The ride to the north Vale was little more than an hour from Gilaiwës’ cottage in the Noldor Vale. Giving Maeglir his head to take the lead, Thranduil relaxed in the saddle, enjoying the gentle but chilly breeze in his hair as his steed broke into a swift canter. Sighing heavily, he braced himself for his meeting with Tauriel as the soft glow of the lanterns at the ferry dock finally came into view. Reining him in, he guided Maeglir back into the forest as he made his way to the stables behind the Inn.

“My Lord.” Macilvoronhûr greeted him as he dismounted. “He’s with Lenwë.” He answered, reading the kings’ unspoken question as he took the reins from him. “Tauriel is with him.” He added as the king arched his brow at him.

Nodding his thanks, Thranduil turned away and strode toward the hallway that would take him through the inns’ large dining room. Frowning inwardly at how so much had changed since he had last visited, he moved quickly toward Lenwës’ private quarters in the front of the inn.

“Go on in, he’s expecting you.” The servant told him with a smile as he reached the archway.

“Thank you Tíránist.” Thranduil replied quietly, nodding as he moved passed him to the slightly open door.

“It is good to know some things never change.” Lenwë stated, flashing him broad a toothy grin, moving toward him as Thranduil entered the large sitting room.

“I could say the same about you.” Thranduil laughed as the two embraced in the middle of the room.

“Tóriôn is green with envy that you were spending your only night here with the Lady Gilaiwë.” He whispered in his ear before releasing him, enjoying the ever so slight blush that colored Thranduils’ neck.

“Perhaps next time when I can stay longer.” Thranduil replied, his eyes danced a little with the memory of the slender but very talented ellyn (male elf) and their private escapades at the waterfall.

Observing in silence as she stood at the edge of the large hearth, Tauriel tried to remember the last time she had seen the king truly smile. Even when he did, it never reached his eyes as it did now. She was more than just angry with him yet she could feel it dim slightly as she watched him, he was beautiful especially when he seemed so happy. For so long his face had hardened with concern and the strain of the darkness that had crept so stealthily over their beloved forest. Watching him now, his face relaxed, she remembered happier times in their fortress home. A time when she would try to hide from him and Legolas but he would always find her and send her squealing as they played away the hours. 

“Regrettably I must leave you now.” Thranduil stated, his tone turning stern as he watched her in the fringes of his view. “I want to reach the High Pass before we make camp. We need to reach the Vale of the Forked Pass by midday on the morrow if we are to be safely in the palace by nightfall.”

“That is quite a distance.” Lenwë commented thoughtfully, frowning slightly as they both turned toward Aldalómë who stood silently only a few feet away.

“It will be a good push but we will rest the mounts at Loeg Ningloron.” He stated, his gaze shifting between the two. “The first part is the longest part of the journey. The difficulty will come once we enter the forest.”

“You will have to stay on the eastern side of the Anduin.” Lenwë stated, turning toward the king. “The western shores have become too marshy once you reach the Sîr Ninglor inlet.”

“Yes. The river will provide the distance between us and the foothills as well.” Thranduil nodded, his gaze taking on a distant look as his thoughts already turned toward the journey ahead. “I will make arrangements to send word to the Lady Gilaiwë once we have arrived safely.” He added, smiling as he turned to embrace Lenwë one last time.

“Aa' lasser en lle coia n' omenta gurtha.” (May the leaves of your life tree never turn brown) Lenwë stated as he hugged him tightly.

“Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta.” (May your ways be green and golden) Thranduil replied, returning his embrace.

“My Lord.” Aldalómë stated with a respectful nod toward Lenwë as Thranduil turned toward the door without looking at them. “Tauriel.” He said quietly as he waved his hand toward the king, indicating that he would follow her.

“My Lord.” She said quietly, giving Lenwë a respectful nod as she walked passed him.

They moved swiftly through the large dining room, the long strides of the taller elves made her feel as if she were almost running to keep up with them. Emerging from the hallway into the stable yard, the rest of the guard had already mounted and were waiting for them.

Taking the reins from Eluandúnië, Thranduil grasped the saddle horn and easily swung his long frame atop his mount. Turning to face her as she stood beside Aldalómë, he extended his hand down toward her.

“I can ride by myself.” She stated, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Tauriel.” Thranduil stated sharply through clenched jaws, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her.

Shaken at the tone of his voice, she froze for a moment before reaching for his hand. Gasping as he easily pulled her into the saddle, plunking her unceremoniously in front of him.

“Do not test me.” Thranduil whispered a warning in her ear as he slipped one arm tightly around her waist, nearly jerking her back against him. “I do not need the rein him, Maeglir knows me well.” He added as he motioned the huge war steed forward with a slight movement of his hips, he smiled to himself as he heard her breath catch in her throat.

Slowly the party made their way silently along the narrow trail toward the ferry dock at the bend in the Anduin. Ordinarily they would have walked the distance as it was just over a mile, yet knowing Tauriel as he did, he expected some form of confrontation and preferred that it not be in a public place. He was in a hurry to get as far away from Lórinand as quickly as possible so as not to draw attention to them. Gilaiwë was right in that they had not been bothered by the shelob (spiders) as they were too small to be of any interest to them. But Thranduil was not so confident in the lack of interest from whatever evil now inhabited Dol Guldur. Lórinand was located just north of Fanghorn at the Gianduin River and had long served as a safe gateway for many through the lower end of the Misty Mountains and he knew that attention would be drawn to them soon enough.

“We will stay mounted.” Thranduil told the ferry master as they approached the shore of the Anduin.

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, My Lord). He stated with a nod and hurried down the slope toward the huge barge-like ferry.

“Easy.” Thranduil said quietly as Maeglir tossed his head and snorted his reluctance to step up onto the unstable floating platform.  
Held tightly against him Tauriel listened to his ever so soft voice speaking in a gentle tone to the nervous steed. She felt the subtle movements of his hips and knees as he easily coaxed the huge steed closer and up onto the unsteady platform. She could feel the strong bond between them as the steed seemed comforted not only by his presence but by something deeper. Unstable without solid ground beneath their feet, the horses whinnied and snorted nervously as the oarsman guided the large bulky ferry against the current toward the opposite shore.

“I do not wish to delay.” Thranduil stated as they reached the shore. “We make haste for the Imladris pass. We will rest the horses at Loeg Ningloron and not before.” He continued as the oarsmen secured the ferry to the shore. One by one the horses leapt from the wooden barge, galloping into the darkness as soon as their hooves found solid ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin Words Used:
> 
> Eshë – Full Phrase = Eshë nîn níëvé meaning “my friend in the sense of a trusted ally who is also a lover yet not life mate”
> 
> Iathrim – Held to be the highest and noblest of the Grey-even kindred, serving under the order of Queen Melian who was of the Maia
> 
> Maia – Spirits who descended to Arda to help in the shaping of the World (Gandalf was a Maia)
> 
> Vanyar – The first and the smallest of the three ‘Clans of the Elves’ also known as Ingwer meaning ‘Chieftains’
> 
> Maeglir – Thranduil’s War Steed.


	2. The Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling north, they kept as close to the eastern shore of the Andiun as safely possible allowing for as much distance between them and the Misty Mountains as well as the forest. Silent in their own thoughts, both Thranduil and Tauriel find themselves becoming more and more aware of their attraction to each other.

Although the sun was already high in the sky by the time they reached Loeg Ningloron, it did little to warm the chilly winter winds that blew down from the snow covered peaks of the Misty Mountains. They had only stopped once long enough to retrieve their riding cloaks from their packs before Thranduil pushed them back to an almost relentless speed. Warmed by his cloak and body heat as he held her tightly against him, Tauriel still felt the cold stinging her cheeks as the landscape raced passed by them in a blur. Much more accustomed to sprinting on foot in the forest, Tauriel felt as if every bone and muscle in her body ached. 

“Come on.” Thranduil said quietly as he dismounted, swinging her down with him. “They need to rest and you need walk.” He told her as he unfastened the thick cloak and pulled if off his shoulders.

“What about you?” She asked as he wrapped the comforting warmth of the cloak around her shoulders.

“I will be fine.” He stated, avoiding the urge to look at her as he fastened it at her neck. “Now walk.” He added as he turned her away from him and gave her a gentle push.

“But...” She started, turning around to complain but he had walked away from her and was now already in what appeared to be a deep discussion with Aldalómë.

Angry as she was with him, she didn’t really want to fight with him, she hugged the thick cloak tighter around her and simply walked back and forth. The air was still chilly but there was less wind now that they were not racing along banks of the Anduin, her muscles complaining profusely with each step.

“Here, eat this.” Rínnänéth said quietly as he approached, handing her a bread roll and a flask of water. “We won’t make camp until closer to time for the evening meal. You’ll be pretty hungry by then.” He told her with a slight smile and abruptly walked away from her.

Leaning against a rock outcropping, she frowned as she weighed the bread roll in her hand for a moment. It felt heavy as if it wasn’t quite cooked all the way through. Curious, she bit into it and was pleasantly surprised as the taste of goat cheese filled her mouth. Keeping her head down slightly as she ate, she watched the king as he continued his discussion with Aldalómë now joined by Eluandúnië. His arms were folded across his chest and his expression seemed tense and guarded as he turned in the direction Aldalómë was pointing. He looked tired and cold, making her feel guilty that he had given her his cloak since she did not have one.

“Mount up.” Thranduil ordered as he walked toward Maeglir. “Just a little further boy, then we rest for the night.” He said quietly laying his cheek against the horses’ broad face as he stroked his thick strong neck.

“Is everything alright?” She asked as he led the horse over to her.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked as he unfastened the cloak, still not looking at her as he wrapped it around his shoulders.

“What was Aldalómë pointing at?” Tauriel pressed as he swung himself up into the saddle.

“Nothing, now come.” He stated, finally looking at her as he reached down toward her, noting the slight redness on her cheeks from the chilly wind. Grasping her hand, he pulled her easily into the saddle in front of him, positioning her in front of him a little more gently than he had the first time.

“It should be easier for you. We will not be moving quite as fast now.” He told her, grabbing the outer edge of the flowing cloak and wrapped it tightly around her.

“Move.” He barked the order, his voice low yet carrying clearly through the chilly air as he shifted his weight slightly, launching Maeglir into a fast canter north toward the Old Forest Road.

She watched from over the folds of the thick cloak as they assumed their normal formation with Aldalómë and Glaurhalbër in the lead and the other three guards flanking Thranduil, effectively boxing them in the middle. Her gaze dropped to his gloved hand as he held the reins loosely, again feeling him guiding the huge horse using slight pressure with his knees and subtle movement of his hips. Yet it also made her so much more aware of him, the strength in his arm as he held her tightly against the length of his hard body. She felt every movement against her as he tightened his thighs on the steeds’ wide girth and rocked his hips urging him forward at a faster pace.

Smiling to himself, he slipped his arm further around her slender waist as he felt her lean back against him. Although his cloak was filled with her scent, he leaned down slightly, pressing his cheek against her temple, enjoying her closeness. He remembered her as a young elfling, she had been so frightened of Maeglir yet she enjoyed watching him ride from a distance as he raced him around the grassy fields. A slight smile curled his lips as he remembered her tantrums when he allowed some of the other elflings to ride him all by themselves, afraid they would fall off and get hurt.

Shaking himself back to the present, Thranduil looked toward the desolate craggy slopes of the Misty Mountains just beyond the Anduin on their left. Scanning the rocky face, he looked for movement of any kind as both goblin and orc could easily blend in with the mottled gray and black coloring of the uneven and stony mountain side. Riding closer to the shores of Anduin provided good distance between them and forest, even though he wasn’t as much concerned with the shelob (spiders) at the moment. While they were only a small party, the evil at Dol Guldur had made the goblins restless and in some ways more daring, he was not willing to wager on their safety.

Slowly the air turned colder as the sun began its descent behind the jagged outline of the mountain tops, casting long shadows across the Anduin. Still they pressed on toward a small landmark of stone outcroppings just beyond the Old Forest Road. It would be a safe place to make camp, giving them a break from the winds that had intensified and providing some semblance security.

An uncomfortable feeling settled over her as they approached the semicircle of stone. Having served in the kings’ forest patrol for most of her adulthood, she recognized some of the hand signals as Eluandúnië and Glaurhalbër separated from the group, heading north. Macilvoronhûr and Rínnänéth split from them heading south as Aldalómë guided his mount toward them. His cold blue eyes flickered over her, Tauriel pressed instinctively tighter against the king as they waited in silence for them to return. Her uneasiness only grew as she watched the silent communication between them when the others returned. Strange glances and slight nods that told her nothing as they dismounted, moving into the cover of the rocks.

“Stay here.” Thranduil told her as he once again pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“What is it?” She asked, following him as he walked away from her.

“Stay here.” He stated sharply, turning to face her, his face seemed as hard as the stones around them as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Swallowing hard at the sudden change in his demeanor, Tauriel shrank back from him as he continued to glare at her. Still she felt the heat of her anger stinging her cheeks as her stomach twisted in knots as he turned away from her. She was not a defenseless child in need of his protection. She had proven her worth many times over as a captain in his forest patrol. Yet there was something in his gaze that silenced her. Clenching her teeth, she reluctantly turned away from him toward one of the larger stones and sank down in front of it.

“Damn you!” She cursed him silently as she settled against the stone surface, wrapping the cloak tighter around her.

She had little memory of her parents, their fortress palace and life under the kings’ protection was all she knew. There were others like her, elflings who had lost their parents, families and friends in wars who also lived there as wards of the king. He had taken a special interest in her and had lavished her with attention, allowing her to attend classes with Legolas, even training with him when she was old enough and she had excelled with the bow and the knife. Tauriel knew she owed him much yet she needed to prove herself worthy of the praise he so often heaped upon her. Yet deep down, she knew that was not the reason she had fought him so hard for his approval to join the forest patrol now many long years ago.

“It will be dark soon.” Macilvoronhûr said quietly, interrupting her thoughts as he handed her another of the baked rolls and a flask of water. “There will be no fire tonight. We will move again before dawn.”

“Why will he not talk to me?” She asked, meeting his soft green eyes as she accepted the food from him.

She felt her anger rise again as he only smiled slightly and turned away from her. There was much history between them and she was nothing more than baggage. A mixture of both Sindar and Silvan, they had all grown up together under the rule of King Oropher, serving as captains in the forest patrol and had fought side by side in defense of the realm. A Sindar like the king, Aldalómës’ father, Lord Garävegión was the kings’ chief counselor and closest advisor. The two of them had been inseparable as elflings, along with Glaurhalbër, another Sindar who served as second in command in Aldalómës’ rare absences. Unlike what she knew of his father, the king did not appear to share the same opinion of Silvan elves as he had appointed a number of them to high ranking positions within his council. Yet, he always deferred to the council of the Sindar.

It was dark by the time the king returned to her as she huddled against the stone, clinging to the warmth of the cloak. He remained silent, not looking at her has he dropped to his knees and brushed away loose stones and other debris at the base of the tallest of the jutting rocks. She could still make out the grim expression on his face as he looked up when Macilvoronhûr and Rínnänéth joined them.

“You need to sleep.” He told her, there was no emotion in his tone as he pulled off his gloves, laying them aside as he reached for the clasp at her throat.

“You’re freezing!” She exclaimed, his cold fingers brushed her chin as he unfastened the clasp.

“I am fine.” He stated, frowning at her as he took her hand, pulling her with him as he laid down on the hard surface.

Curling against her body as he drew the cloak over them, Thranduil stiffened as she snuggled closer to him. Swallowing with difficulty as she pressed her backside firmly against his groin, he struggled to remain still as the soft scent of lavender and lilac mingled with her own wafted through his senses with her squirming. Tall for a Silvan elf, her body molded so comfortably to his as he carefully adjusted his position, slipping his arm around her waist. The heat from her body slowly warmed him as he lay quietly, holding her and listening to her breathing. Frowning inwardly, he prepared himself for what he knew would be a very long night.

“Even if we manage to slip quietly through the back gate word will spread.” Glaurhalbër said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as they stood the first watch for the night.

“Aye.” Aldalómë sighed, casting him a quick sideways glance. “Say nothing to no one.” He added as he turned his eyes back to the mountain side.

The night passed slowly for all of them as Rínnänéth silently stepped back into their makeshift camp. Thrusting his chin toward the east as Aldalómë peered out from under the hood of his cloak, he gave him the signal that dawn would break shortly. Casting a quick glance toward the king, he nodded as Aldalómë shook his head, they would leave him sleep while they gathered the horses.

Within minutes Thranduil emerged from behind the rocks, frowning at Aldalómë as he walked briskly toward him. They remained silent as the king turned to scan their surroundings even though he knew the others had already mounted and were waiting a short distance away.

“This was a fools’ errand.” Aldalómë stated, finally breaking the silence between them. The disapproval clear in both his tone.

“Not now.” Thranduil said quietly, folding his arms across his chest as if it would ward off the oncoming chill.

Smelling the air, he turned toward the west, noting that the snow had crept even farther down the mountain slopes during the night. A heavy frost seemed to cover everything that wasn’t moving, sparkling like thousands of tiny diamonds as the pink light of a false dawn crept over the dense forest in the distance. He could hear the faint calls of the Morning Doves and Quail nesting in the tall grassy fields between them and the forest.

Clicking his tongue, he called Maeglir to him, smiling as he heard him snort followed by the sound of his hooves as he cantered up to him.

“Tonight you shall have the comfort of your warm stall and fresh sweet hay.” He told him softly, running his fingers through his mane as the huge steed nuzzled his chest. Patting the broad side of his thick neck, he grasped the reins and led him back toward the semicircle of rocks.

“Tauriel.” He said softly, touching her shoulder. “Come, we need to leave.”

Waking with a start, she stared up at him for a moment before pushing herself to her feet. She could see the concern etched in his features, yet there was something else about him that seemed slightly distant as he turned away from her. Frowning, she pulled the cloak tighter around her as she followed him.

“I do not intend to stop until we are safely in the palace.” He said quietly as he rummaged in one of the saddle bags. “You need to eat before we start.” He told her, handing her one of the baked rolls as he turned back toward her.

A slight shake of his head silenced her as he turned his attention to Maeglir, giving her the opportunity to eat. Frowning, she watched him as she ate in silence. The air was cold enough she could see his breath in the faint glow of morning, yet his gloves hung at his belt as he ran this bare fingers through the steeds mane and cross his face. Again she felt the bond between them, they seemed to speak to each other in a language only they knew and understood.

“Like the language of lovers.” She thought, feeling the heat of her embarrassment staining her cheeks. That feeling only deepened as she remembered the feel of him as he curled his body around her so possessively through the night. The feel of his face buried in her hair at the back of her neck as he sought the heat from her body.

“We need to go.” He stated, turning suddenly toward her, his icy fingers brushed her chin as he unfastened the clasp of the cloak.

Unwilling to look at her face lest she read his thoughts, he kept his attention focused on the clasp and turned away from her as he swung it around his shoulders. Mounting quickly, he reached for her and pulled her quickly into the saddle in front of him. Pausing only long enough to retrieve his gloves before wrapping her once again in the cloak as he motioned Maeglir into a brisk walk toward the others who waited a short distance away.

“Do you always read each other’s thoughts?” She asked, allowing her irritation to show slightly as she watched them exchange glances and then shift to a different formation.

“Sometimes.” Thranduil told her quietly, slipping his arm tighter around her as he caught the sideways glances from both Aldalómë and Eluandúnië.

Pursing her lips in frustration, Tauriel ignored them and turned her gaze toward the distant forest, yet she could not ignore the possessive way he held her so tightly against him. She felt the heat of embarrassment rising in her cheeks as she was forced to lean against the length of him, her thoughts turning to the way he held her last night. The heat from his body radiated through her as he slept, burying his face in her neck as chilly fingers of cold air seeped beneath the heavy cloak.

All too soon the edge of the forest loomed before them as they descended the sloping field. The guards moved to single file, Aldalómë in the lead and the king in center as they approached the Great Horned Gate, the start of the elven path through the forest. Passing through the gate, an eerie darkness engulfed them almost as if night had fallen, the foul stench of decay drifted on the subtle current of air that seemed to come from everywhere yet nowhere. Illuminated with elven magic, the path was still dim as it wound its’ way for almost one hundred and fifty miles through dense clusters of gnarled and twisted trunks, heavily draped in thick vines of poison sumac.

“Be still.” He said quietly close to her ear, tightening his hold on her as he dropped his other hand down to grasp the hilt of his sword.

Hindered by the colder temperatures in the winter months, most of the shelob (spiders) nests were closer to the tree tops where the branches still protected then from the gusting winds and the air was slightly warmer during the day. The forest grew more densely here, forcing them to move at a much slower pace than Thranduil would have preferred, the guards maintained a tight line and steady forward pace with their bows at the ready. Unless they felt threatened or very hungry, they were usually not interested in attacking such a large group on horseback verses a single rider or a small group on foot. Yet they could feel the eyes of the shelob (spiders) watching and hear the snapping of twigs and smaller branches beneath their weight as they followed them along the path from up above.

Suddenly the forest seemed to open up as the trees began to thin out, allowing them to move at a faster pace toward the Enchanted River that flowed from the center of the Mirkwood Mountains, winding its way through underground aquafers beneath the elven halls. Reaching the river, the small boats were not meant to ferry the horses across, forcing them to follow it north until it joined the Forest River that flowed south from the Grey Mountains.

Securing their weapons as they reached the rivers junction, they waited at the shoreline as the oarsmen guided the barge across. As if sensing they were almost home, the horses were almost eager to climb up on the broad unsteady platform. Unlike the barges in Lórinand which were designed to haul large heavy loads for trading with the dwarves of Moria and the woodsmen of Gianduin, it took two trips for the entire party to cross. Continuing north, the shadows grew longer as the sun dipped into the western mountain peaks, they made their way toward the stable area at the rear of the elven halls.

“Aldalómë.” Thranduil stated just loud enough to be heard, reining Maeglir to a halt as the large stable doors came into view.

“What does that mean?!” Tauriel asked more sharply as she watched him hold up his hand, pointing his finger upward as he made a spinning motion when the Chief March Warden turned to look back at him.

“Nothing.” Thranduil said quietly, smiling as he felt her body stiffen and knew she was getting frustrated and angry with him. His arm tightened around her as he watched them enter the stable while he remained in the shadows.

“I am not a child!” She hissed through clenched teeth as she twisted in the saddle to glare at him.

“I did not say you were.” He said softly, smiling as he gazed into her flashing angry eyes. He leaned forward slightly, feeling her breath on his lips.

Shocked into silence Tauriel felt her head swim as he jerked his hips forward sending Maeglir nearly running into the stables.

“Take her the back way.” Thranduil ordered, pulling her easily with him as he swung his long frame down from the saddle.

Confused, Tauriel only gasped as Glaurhalbër and Rínnänéth stepped up beside her, whisking her quickly through a side door that led into various storage rooms.

“Take me where?!” She demanded as they continued silently through yet another door into a narrow tunnel that felt like it was going upward. This was a part of the palace she had never been in and had no idea where they were taking her or why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	3. Gilded Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions grow between Thranduil and Tauriel but not the way he would have preferred. After keeping her confined within the luxurious guest room near his personal chambers, supposedly to give her time to think and reflect, Thranduil finds a very angry Tauriel on his first visit to her in a month. Much more accustomed to members of the fairer sex being more eager for his attention, he responds in typical Thranduil fashion by taunting her with the knowledge of her personal exploits with Legolas. While they deny it to themselves, their feelings for each other continue to grow.

“It has been a month.” Galion said quietly as he poured a cup of spiced apple tea and handed it to the king. “How long do you intend to torment her?” He added, arching a brow.

“Is that what I’m doing?” Thranduil smiled sweetly from behind guarded eyes as he accepted the cup. “She simply needs time.”

“Time for what?” Galion pressed, seating himself opposite him as the king looked away from him to gaze into the hearth.

The only sound was the soft crackling of the logs in the enormous hearth as Galion studied him from over the rim of his cup. The kings’ expression was now guarded and unreadable, even to him who had known him for most of his life. Their losses had been heavy during the battle in the shadows of the Lonely Mountain. Galion knew this weighed heavy on the kings’ mind and heart. While Tauriels’ departure had angered him, it was the absence of his only child that brought him the most pain.

“Or is it you who needs the time?” Galion ventured as the silence stretched too long between them, a slow smile curling his lips as his soft green eyes narrowed slightly.

“Whatever do you mean?” Thranduil asked, tilting his head as he looked at him innocently.

“She is young and grows more frustrated by the day.” Galion told him, pausing to take a sip of his tea. “Tauriel has never been known for her patience.”

“Neither is she known for understanding her place.” Thranduil replied casually, yet there was an odd look in his sapphire eyes as he turned to look at his longtime friend and personal servant.

“And what place is that?” Galion chuckled, although he already knew the answer recognizing the slight curl of the kings’ lips.

“Patience is a virtue.” The king replied, turning his attention back to the dancing flames in the hearth.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Why will you not answer my questions?” Tauriel demanded more than asked. Her dark green eyes flashed angrily as she swung to face Eluandúnië, the only one of the kings’ personal guards that treated her with some degree of politeness.

“You know as well as I do, the king does not explain himself.” He replied, his tone far more calm than he felt as he watched her turn away from him.

“For what purpose has he dragged me back here?! Only to ignore me!!” She continued to question him, folding her arms beneath her breasts as she paced the length of the sitting room. “Have I not suffered enough?!”

Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she paced, stubbornly she blinked them away. Refusing to give him the pleasure of reporting her weakness to Aldalómë, it would only get back to the king. Alone for the most part, with only her thoughts and memories to keep her company, she neither wanted or needed his pity and longed for the freedom of the forest. Striding purposefully toward the bed chamber, Tauriel felt the tears leak down her cheeks as the memory of Kili overwhelmed her. The pain of her loss was only intensified when Legolas abandoned her. Slamming the door behind her, she threw herself onto the bed, burying her face in the soft pillow as she let them flow freely.

“I hate you!” She screamed into the pillow, the ache deep within her grew to a sharp pain as if a knife had suddenly been plunged into her heart.

So were all the days that passed, she suffered in silence within the private rooms assigned to her. The guards came and went, her questions falling on deaf ears, their stoic expressions revealing nothing. Silent servants brought her meals, straightened her rooms and lighting the fires at night. Each day fading into the next, her tears fell less often yet the memories still haunted her dreams. Against her will, Tauriel found herself succumbing to the monotonous routine of life within the spacious rooms that had become her prison.

Sitting quietly in front of the hearth, Tauriel frowned slightly as she heard a soft knock on the door at such a late hour. The evening meal had long since passed, the servants had collected the tray and brought her a fresh pot of cinnamon spiced hazel nut tea. Her gaze remained fixed on the flames that danced on the logs in the hearth, knowing it was little more than a courtesy as the guard would enter with or without her summons.

“Tauriel.”

Turning quickly at the sound of his voice, she rose hastily to her feet. A myriad of emotions washed over her as she stared at the guarded face of the king. Stiffening slightly as she stepped back from him, she rested her hands on the back of the chair where she had been sitting.

“My Lord.” She stated, meeting his gaze evenly.

“Are you afraid of me?” Thranduil asked quietly as he approached her, arching a brow as his eyes moving over the length of her.

“Should I be?” Tauriel asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tilted her chin almost defiantly toward him.

“You never had a reason to be afraid of me before, why would you now?” He said quietly as he stopped within arm’s length of her.

The tone of his voice carried the soft lilt of humor that grated on her. Unconsciously her fingers gripped the back of the chair as they stood there for long moments just staring at each other, her thoughts jumbled over each other.

“You have never held me prisoner before.” Tauriel stated, struggling to control her anger as he smiled at her, tilting his head curiously.

“I can understand why Legolas would desire you.” Thranduil said in a distracted tone, enjoying the flash of anger in her eyes as he appeared to absently wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“I assure you My Lord...”

“You can assure me of nothing. I know my son.” He interrupted her as he stepped slightly closer, his smile broadening as he watched her eyes widen. “Did you really think your little trysts were not known to me? Do you really think you were the only one?” He continued, arching a brow at her yet he watched her every movement. 

“How dare you!” She hissed, lashing out instinctively only to cry out in pain as he quickly snatched her wrist.

“I dare whatever I chose.” Thranduil breathed heatedly in her ear as he twisted her arm behind her and pinioned her tightly against him. “Once I saw the way you looked at each other, did you really think I would not know?” He asked as he leaned down closer, purposefully brushing her neck with his lips as he spoke.

“I hate you!” She hissed as she tried to pull free of his grasp, only to feel his arms tighten around her, pressing her against the length of him. Fresh tears stinging the backs of her eyes as she felt the hardness of his desire against her the small of her back as he kissed her neck softly. As angry as she was with him, the realization of her own desires overwhelmed her making her tremble.

“There is a way one looks at another when there is only desire.” He whispered, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke. “Yet it is something quite different once one has come to know another.” He continued, his voice barely above a whisper as he breathed in the scent of her.

“What about you?!” She demanded, turning her face away from him.

“I just wanted you to know that I knew.” He said quietly, kissing her temple then suddenly released her.

“Damn you!” Tauriel exclaimed as he turned away from her, striding purposefully toward the door.

“Tell Aldalómë I wish to speak with him.” Thranduil informed Macilvoronhûr as he pulled the door closed behind him. “Lock it.” He added as the guards eyes glanced quickly at the door.

“As you wish.” The guard answered with a quick nod. Shaking his head as the king turned away from him, he locked the door and went in the opposite direction.

Smiling to himself, Thranduil walked purposefully around the corner and down the steps to his more private areas within the palace. The scent of the lavender and lilac soap mingled with her own seemed to cling to him as he entered the lower chambers.

“Tell Aldalómë not to bother knocking.” He informed the guard as he reached the bottom of the stairs into his private audience chamber.

“My Lord.” Thalieth replied quietly, nodding as the king strode passed him without pausing.

Entering his private study he moved straight to the wine cabinet, collecting two goblets and a carafe of his preferred Dorwinion wine. Although the evening had grown late it was still early enough he knew the Chief March Warden would still be awake. Setting the carafe and the goblets on a small table between the two tall chairs before the hearth, he set about lighting the logs himself. There had been no need to leave instructions for the servants to light this one as he normally conducted his daily business immediately following the morning meal, preserving his evenings for his own leisure.

“You are a fool.” Aldalómë stated as he closed the door behind him, his blue eyes guarded as he walked toward him. They had known each other since they were young elflings and was one of only a handful who could speak his mind to him.

“Starting tomorrow Tauriel may come and go as she pleases within the confines of the palace.” Thranduil stated as he leaned forward, filling the other goblet for him. “I expect that you will still keep an eye on her.” He added, noting the curious look from Aldalómë as he accepted the goblet.

“What did you do?” Aldalómë sighed heavily as he sank into the comfort of the padded chair opposite the king.

“She has a fire in her.” Thranduil said quietly, his eyes dancing as he smiled devilishly from over from over the rim of his goblet.

“Yes, and you’re going to get burned if you keep stoking it.” He chided him as he watched the odd play of expressions across the kings’ face. Frowning slightly when Thranduil only laughed softly and shifted his position in the chair.

“You can have any elleth (elf maiden) you want, why this one?” He asked, shaking his head but couldn’t help smile at him as he relaxed back in the chair.

“I could also have my choice of quite a few ellyn’s (male elf) but where’s the challenge in that?” Thranduil laughed and took a long drink from his goblet.

“She still mourns for the dwarf and pines after Legolas.” Aldalómë stated, his disapproval clearly visible by his deep frown. “This cannot lead to anything good.”

“I cannot let her go.” Thranduil said quietly as he looked down into the dark liquid in his goblet.

“Cannot or will not?” Aldalómë pressed him, arching a brow when the king only glared at him.

“Either way it does not matter.” Thranduil snapped at him, flashing him an angry glare before turning to gaze into the leaping flames in the heart. “She belongs here.” He said quietly after long moments.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!” Tauriel ranted as she paced along the rug in front of the hearth.

Resting one elbow in her hand, she covered the place on her neck where kissed her, the heat of his lips had shaken her. The scent of him lingered, a strong scent of sandalwood mingled with the softer scent of Niphredil, the white star flowers found throughout the forest. She could still smell the sweet scent of his breath as he whispered to her. Slowly as her anger began to fade, she remembered not only the strength in his arms and the heat that emanated from him as he held her so tightly against the hard length of his body, but his clear desire for her.

Closing her eyes as the heat of her blush stung her cheeks. Against her will her thoughts turned to those stolen evenings under the stars with Legolas. How gentle he was with her, treating her as if she were made of fine spun glass afraid she would shatter at the slightest touch. The king was so different, everything about him from the way he looked at her, the way he held her, the heat of his breath, even his whispered voice was far more bold and it excited her.

“Oh my God!” She choked as the full realization of her thoughts hit her.

Nearly jumping to her feet, she hurried toward her bathing chamber. Stripping off the gown she had selected that morning, she left it in a pile on the floor. Lifting the small lever on the back of the copper tub that provided a continuous flow of heated water from the huge copper vats in the kitchen, she sank down into it. Pouring generous amounts of the scented soap onto a washing cloth, she set about vigorously scrubbing every inch of her body, determined to remove even the slightest scent of him. Stopping her task only when the water had cooled enough to chill her, rinsing away the soap, she pushed herself out of the tub and hurriedly dried off as she went into her bed chamber.

Slipping beneath the covers, she hugged the overly soft pillow and felt the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. The scent of him might be gone but the other memories still haunted her as she lay quietly. Willing herself to go to sleep, it would be long into the night before sleep found her as her mind tormented her with the memories of how he held her, the unwanted feelings he had stirred within her as he cuddled against her under the cloak.

Jolted awake as she felt someone touching her arm, Tauriel sat straight up in the bed, clutching the blanket up over her breasts as the servant jumped back. She stared wide eyed at the young elleth (elf maiden) who normally brought her the tray for her morning meal.

“I didn’t mean to startle you but you were sleeping so heavily you didn’t hear me.” The elleth (elf maiden) said shyly, still staring at her. “Glaurhalbër asked me to give you this.” She said as she handed her a small sealed envelope.

“Thank you.” Tauriel said quietly as she accepted it and watched her disappear silently.

Looking at the plain envelope that could have been meant for anyone, she hesitated for a moment before tearing it open. It was a very brief message informing her that she was free to enjoy her meals in the dining hall, her gaze lingered on the scrawling signature that she recognized as his own handwriting. There was no official seal nothing that would indicate who it was from much less the king.

Laying it on the stand as she pushed herself out of the bed, angry with herself for feeling slighted when she didn’t even have the right to expect anything personal from him. Berating herself as she pulled the brush through the tangled mass of her reddish auburn hair, frustrated at herself for going to bed without waiting for it to dry.

Rummaging through the gowns in the huge wardrobe, wondering not for the first time where they had come from, particularly since they all seemed to fit her perfectly. Choosing a deep midnight blue silk with long sleeves, she quickly slipped it over her head and struggled for a bit with the row of tiny of buttons that ran down the bodice. She still missed the more comfortable fit of her uniform, yet they were nowhere to be found.

Opening the door, she paused for a brief moment before striding past the guard as she made her way to the dining hall. The enormous room was already quite full, she heard the low hum of many conversations before she even entered, scanning the tables quickly for a vacant seat. Almost as if drawn there like a magnet, her gaze moved to the raised dais at the far end of the room where the king and his council were seated. Turning away as quickly as she met his gaze, she headed toward a table where she had seen a couple of her former patrol friends sitting.

“Tauriel! Where have you been!?” Eréndriël asked excitedly as she waved her over.

“Yes! Sit with us, we heard rumor you were back.” Gäérrÿk chimed with a grin. “We thought you might have headed north with Legolas.”

“I was visiting friends in Lórinand.” She answered both of their questions as she took the seat beside Eréndriël.

“So much for your idea of romance.” Gäérrÿk teased, flashing a grin at Eréndriël. “When are you coming back to the patrols?” He asked more seriously, turning his attention back to Tauriel.

“That is up to the king.” Tauriel replied quietly as she glanced around the room, looking for any of the other captains. Frowning slightly as she caught sight of Glaurhalbër standing stoically at the door she had entered. Turning quickly toward the other door she saw Eluandúnië and knew that while she had a level of freedom, she was still being guarded. 

“Are you in trouble?” Eréndriël asked, her soft green eyes growing wide with concern.

“No, I’m not in trouble.” Tauriel said quickly, giving her a slight hug. “I will say only that the king is not very pleased with me at the moment and we will let the subject drop.” She added more firmly, noting the quick glances between the two of them.

It was good to have her friends to talk to and hear the reports of what was happening out in the forest. They were still battling with nests of the shelob (spiders) but seemed to be making some progress at driving them farther south almost as far as the Mirkwood Mountains but they still returned. They talked a little about the battle at the Lonely Mountain but mostly the slaying of Smaug and the rebuilding of both the new city of Lake Town which was now situated on the shore of the lake and the efforts to assist the former residents of Dale in rebuilding their city as well. All too soon the meal ended as they needed to get back to their posts.

“Will we see later?” Eréndriël asked, giving her a tight hug.

“Perhaps.” Tauriel told her, returning the hug fiercely. “It really is good to see both of you again.” She said as she hugged Gäérrÿk as well before turning and heading toward the door. Casting one final glance back at the dais, she frowned slightly as she noticed that the king had already left.

Since she was not explicitly told she could go anywhere except the dining hall, she made her way back to her rooms. Her heart was a little lighter with the knowledge that she was at least allowed that much and she didn’t want to do anything that would change his mind. She didn’t need to look behind her to know that Glaurhalbër had followed her at a respectable distance, still giving her the illusion of freedom.

“Did you enjoy your conversation with your friends?” Thranduil asked quietly, arching a brow at her as she entered the sitting room.

Tauriel froze at the sound of his voice, sending her hair flying as she turned quickly toward the hearth. Instantly overwhelmed with emotions as she focused on his face, stiffening as his eyes seemed to rake over her body yet they held her gaze, the almost taunting way he tilted his head to the side.

“Why am I here?” She asked as she moved toward him, stopping behind the chair in front of him.

“I want you here, this is where you belong.” Thranduil replied as he rose from the chair and walked toward her.

“You want!” Tauriel spat angrily, her entire body stiffening as she glared at him. “What about what I want?!" She demanded more than asked, her chin lifting in defiance.

“You do not know what you want.” He said quietly as he stepped closer to her. Part of him wanting to leave yet he remained, watching the rise and fall of her breasts as she stood there defying him as only she could do.

“Damn you!” She hissed, resisting the urge to lash out at him as she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. As relaxed as he seemed, she knew better and the last thing she wanted right now was to give him any more control over her. 

“Such a biting tongue for one so beautiful.” He said quietly as he moved slightly closer to her. Smiling almost tauntingly at how easily he could ignite the fire within her. “Do you know your eyes shine like emeralds when you’re angry?” He asked in the same quiet tone, the tip of his tongue wetting the surface of his bottom lip.

“Stop treating me like a child!” She nearly screamed as she turned away from him. Moving toward the hearth, putting the chair between them.

“Perhaps if you did not act like one I would not feel the need.” He said quietly, the taunting smile returning to his lips as he watched her.

“Why won’t you leave me in peace?” She asked as she folded her arms beneath her breasts, her eyes narrowing as she watched his expression harden slightly.

“If that is what you want, then you shall have it.” He stated far more calmly than he felt as he gave her a slight nod and turned on his heel away from her.

“You bastard!” She hissed as she watched the door close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thanks for reading! So far the story has not been to the level of explicit sexual encounters as the greater majority of my writings, however, that will change as the story progresses. Comments are always welcome!


	4. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While desires burn hotter within the fortress palace of Mirkwood and Thranduil begins to win Tauriels’ heart, it may all be for naught as trouble threatens on the horizon.

Lounging comfortably in his favorite chair before the hearth, Thranduil watched the flames as he allowed his mind to wander. Accustomed to having his thoughts divided, he listened to Galions’ endless chatter as to the comings and goings within the palace. He nodded and commented at all the right moments so he would think he was actually paying attention to him. It was mostly just gossip but he had learned long ago that he could glean bits and pieces from it that could prove useful in dealing with certain people and situations.

Allowing the woodsmen temporary permission to thin out some of the trees in the more densely overgrown areas had proven effective in controlling the shelob, (spiders) it had stayed their encroachment toward the palace. Unfortunately it had cost him more in the way of using troops to protect them rather than their normal patrols of the outer edges of the forest. His feelings of restlessness only intensified as his thoughts turned to his latest argument Tauriel with her persistent requests that now become demands that she be allowed to return to the forest patrol.

“What you are doing is wrong Thranduil and I think you know this.” Galions’ voice interrupted his thoughts, the disapproval resonating in his tone.

“What?” He frowned deeply as he turned to face him. “I am only trying to protect her. I don’t want her fleeing back to Lórinand.” Thranduil stated defensively, taking a long drink from his goblet as he eyed him suspiciously.

“You are hunting her as if she were little more than prey.” He retorted angrily. “One you have cornered and yet you still toy with her. You have always treated her as if she were your own child, not to mention she was a loyal captain in the patrol and served you well for many years, she deserves better than this.” He scolded him as if he were still the young elfling he knew centuries ago when his father and the other Sindar arrived in Greenwood the Great.

“You would not understand.” Thranduil groaned angrily as he rose to his feet to stand closer to the hearth.

“My preferences may lie with ellyn (male elf) but I am far from ignorant in the ways of elleth. (Elf maiden) Why don’t you try to explain it to me?” He said quietly, studying him now as he watched the strange play of expressions chase themselves across the kings’ normally guarded face.

“There is a fire in her that stirs something deep within me.” Thranduil said as he watched the flames in the hearth. “A passion I have not felt in many long years.” He added, his tone dropping to almost a whisper.

“Yes, I have watched her closely for many years.” He continued quietly, turning to briefly look at the servant who was also his friend before looking back to the flames. “Tauriel has always been special. She is not one that is impressed by power or titles yet the crown is all she sees when she looks at me.” He sighed heavily as he looked down into the dark liquid in his goblet.

“And you would rather she see you and not the crown.” Galion commented, a knowing smile curled his lips.

“Is that so wrong?” Thranduil asked, turning to look at him.

“Might I offer you a bit of advice?” Galion asked, arching a brow at him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Reluctantly Tauriel pushed herself out of the bed and made her way to the bathing chamber. It had been nearly two weeks since the king had visited her. She knew she had pushed him too far when he sent word that she was no longer permitted the freedom of the palace after the evening meal which would be brought to her rooms. Sighing heavily as she thought of his empty seat on the dais for the morning and midday meals in the dining hall.

Filling the small basin, she set about the task of freshening herself for the day. Staring at herself in the polished glass, she looked the same yet she hardly recognized the sadness in the depths of the eyes that stared back at her. Sadness, loneliness and anger seemed to fill her days. Sadness for a love that might have been as she thought of Kili. She felt both sadness and loneliness at the loss of Legolas, who had been like a brother to her, a friend and companion until things changed with a single glance.

“There is a way one looks at another when there is only desire.” The kings’ words came back to haunt her as she remembered that first time with Legolas, when she had so freely given herself to him. “Yet it is something quite different once one has come to know another.” He had taunted her with his knowledge of her private life.

Anger rose in her heart as she stared at herself, thinking of him. The king was very beautiful and many a young maiden had desired him, herself included. Color seeped into her cheeks as she remembered how shamelessly she had flirted with him so long ago. He had been so sweet yet it was clear to her that he saw her as nothing more than the daughter he would never have, politely but appreciatively declining her advances. It hurt terribly but she had contented herself for a time with his view of her until her desires grew stronger and his fatherly embraces only tormented her.

“What is different now?” She silently asked the face that stared blankly back at her.

Swallowing hard as she remembered the feel of his arms around her, the scent of him through the sandalwood and Niphredil. Even now she could smell the sweet scent of his breath and feel the heat where his lips had touched her skin. She remembered the feel the hardness of his desire as he held her, pressing her against him, as if he wanted her to know. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as her thoughts turned to Legolas, questioning whether she had really loved him or merely used him as a substitute for what she could not have. She had to mean more to him than just a wayward child, somehow he had known where she had gone and had personally travelled to Lórinand to bring her back.

“Stop it!” She scolded herself out loud as she turned away from the glass, striding purposefully back into her bed chamber.

Stopping in her tracks as her gaze fell on the small settee at the foot of the bed. Draped neatly over the arm was a full set of forest green winter riding clothes with a pair of new boots sitting on the floor in front of it. Frowning slightly as she saw the small folded piece of parchment and the Länciföliûm flower, hesitantly she picked it up and unfolded it.

Trembling as she recognized the kings’ handwriting, she read the words he wrote. “Tauriel, I would like your company this morning. Please meet me in the stables. Thranduil.” Gently she picked up the cluster of tiny yellow flowers, admiring them as she smelled them.

She felt her heart leap as she realized that he had to have brought the new clothes and the flower himself as the message was not in a sealed envelope. The language of flowers was very personal among the elves more commonly reserved for courtly flirtations and secret messages between lovers’ yet the message of the Länciföliûm confused her. Its apologetic meaning was diverse and could be given as a way of telling someone you were sorry for anything ranging from having wronged them or letting them know you share in their sorrow for their loss of a loved one or a friend. 

Excitedly, she snatched up the under garments and quickly began the task of dressing herself for her first chance in months to be out of the palace and in her beloved forest. Frowning for a brief instant as she buttoned up the front of it, admiring herself in the tall silvered glass, she wondered where it had come from as it fit her body perfectly. As quickly as the thought occurred to her, it flittered from her mind as she grabbed up the brush on her dressing table. Raking it through the tangled mass, she hurriedly braided the length of it into one long rope down her back.

Chuckling softly as Maeglir nuzzled his chest, Thranduil hugged him as he reached up to comb his fingers through the long white mane. He knew he sensed his nervousness and tried to settle him with soft spoken praises taking his time as he brushed and groomed him before saddling him up. They were not going to be out long, just a short ride for some much needed fresh air and a little exercise. Catching sight of her in his peripheral vision, he turned and smiled warmly as Tauriel approached him.

“I am glad you could join me.” He said quietly as she reached him. “I cannot ride out alone.” He added apologetically as she glanced toward the guards who pulled themselves up onto their mounts and made their way through the wide double doors.

Quickly pulling himself up into the saddle, he smiled as he reached for her. “Please?” He added when she hesitated.

Grasping her hand firmly, he gently lifted her to him and positioned her comfortably in front of him. Wrapping his cloak around her as he nudged Maeglir forward with a slight motion of his hips. Smiling to himself as he felt her relax back against him, he slipped his arm around her waist and followed the guards through the doors heading north.

Closing her eyes, Tauriel breathed in the fresh air. It was safer here as there were no shelob (spider) nests above the Forest River, the heaviest concentration seemed to be in the larger area east of the Enchanted River, just north of the Mirkwood Mountains. Unlike the journey home, he did not hold her as possessively, yet she felt his ungloved hand absently caressing her hip as he rested his arm comfortably around her waist. Through the thick veil of her lashes she watched the guards slowly spread out in the distance to give them some degree of privacy yet remained close enough to protect them if they were in any danger.

“Then stop being the king and be yourself.” Galions’ words rang in his ears as he leaned forward pressing his cheek against her temple. Content at the moment for the quiet closeness they shared as they wandered farther into the forest.

“Beautiful.” Tauriel sighed as they entered a large glade surrounded by thick evergreens. The sound of the waterfall was soft and comforting.

“Just west of Amon Lanc there was one like this.” Thranduil said quietly. “When I was young I used to go there with some friends and swim in the lake beneath the falls.”

“It must have been a very beautiful place.” She said softly, turning her head to look up at him.

“It was.” He smiled down at her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “When I think of those times I feel old.” He chuckled, arching his brows slightly.

“You are not old.” She stated, leaning against him. “Age can mean everything and yet nothing at all.” She said quietly.

“Strange but wise words from one so young.” He told her, dropping the reins around the saddle horn as he embraced her with both arms beneath the cover of the cloak. “But then age is not always measured in years.” He added, pressing his cheek against hers as he used his knees the guide Maeglir passed the falls and through the evergreens.

Pulling the cloak tighter around them, Tauriel savored every moment with him. Leaning back against him, she breathed in the scent of him as she gazed out at the forest. Absently watching as the evergreens faded into tall leafless oaks, birch and elm trees of winter, she wondered what life was like when the Sindar first came to what was then called Greenwood the Great. She felt a deep sadness for him, to have lived so long to see his beloved Woodland Ream darkened by the taint of evil.

Relaxing his arms around her as he let Maeglir wander where ever he chose, Thranduil found her hands within the folds of the cloak. Toying with her fingers and tracing teasing patterns over her palms, he found himself rambling about the forest he remembered long ago. Pointing out the various shrubs and the remnants of trailing vines by name, describing them when they would be in full bloom in the spring. He told her about the clearing work being done in the other parts of the forest by the woodsmen.

“Will you dine with me tonight?” Thranduil asked quietly, kissing her temple as they neared the stable gate at the rear of the palace.

“I think I would like that.” Tauriel replied quietly, turning to smile up at him as she squeezed his hands under the cover of the cloak.

Leaning down, he playfully rubbed his nose against hers as he slipped his arms tighter around her. Frowning inwardly as the huge doors came into view, he knew their time together had ended for the time being. There were things that needed to be discussed between them before he allowed it to go any farther between them.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You sent for me?” Galion asked curiously as he entered Thranduils’ private study.

“Yes, I did.” Thranduil stated, smiling as he looked up from the papers strewn over his desk. “Close the door please." He added, pushing himself to his feet. “I wanted to properly thank you for your advice.” He continued, a mischievous smile curing his lips as he stepped around his desk.

“I take it you actually listened to something I said for once.” Galion laughed as he closed the door and turned to face him.

“Thran...”

Caught off guard by the strong embrace as Thranduil captured his mouth in a long searching kiss, he forced himself to relax against him. Struggling for breath beneath the onslaught of the hungry mouth that now possessed his own, he clung to the taller body for support as Thranduil ravished his mouth for long moments.

“What advice did I give you?” He asked breathlessly as Thranduil released his mouth yet still held him tightly in his embrace.

“Tauriel has agreed to dine with me tonight.” He stated as he leaned back to smile down at him. 

“Wonderful!” Galion replied as Thranduil released him and walked back to his chair behind his desk. “So, your little outing this morning went well I presume?” He asked as he plopped into the comfortable chair in front of the desk.

“Well, we did not fight and she did not curse me!” Thranduil laughed as he leaned back in his chair. “It was very enjoyable.” He added in a softer voice yet his eyes danced with a light of their own.

“So why do I sense there is more?” Galion asked, pinioning him with a frown as he curled his legs up under him in the chair.

“I intend to be completely honest with her.” He stated with a heavy sigh as he met Galions’ gaze evenly. “About everything.”

“Everything?” Galion asked, raising his brow at him. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I have wronged her enough already.” Thranduil said, his voice thick with guilt as he laid his head back, staring at the ceiling. “You are right. She deserves better than what I have done to her since I forced her to return. I can only hope that she does not reject me completely out of hand.” He said quietly as he returned his gaze to his friend.

“You are telling me this I suppose because it include us?” He asked studying him.

“I will not if you do not wish it.” Thranduil said thoughtfully, returning the same scrutinizing gaze. “But I have no intentions of giving you up.”

“I see.” Galion said quietly, his expression turning inward for a few moments. “It’s no secret that my preferences are for ellyn. (male elf) My concern is for you.” He stated after long moments.

“I do not want anything to change between us.” He told him as he got up from behind his desk, moving toward the small wine cupboard. “She will need time.” He sighed as he poured them both a small goblet of wine. “If it is something she cannot accept, it is better that she know now than to cause her more pain later.” He said as he handed him one of the goblets.

“Yes.” Galion sighed, accepting the goblet. “Not telling her could make her feel as if you have betrayed her, especially if she should hear from someone else.”

“I have never flaunted my private matters.” Thranduil stated as he sank back down into his chair. “Still I am very aware that there are eyes and ears everywhere no matter how careful one is about such matters.”

“I think it would be more comfortable for her if things are simple tonight.” Thranduil stated when the silence in the room stretched uncomfortably.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Sensing a great anger and pain within him, Lenwë was quiet as he studied the young prince of Mirkwood. The differences between the two were striking to say the least as Lenwë thought back on the day when his father had first visited as an exile in Lórinand. Unfortunately his state of mind brought out far more of his grandfathers’ traits than those of his father, particularly Thranduils’ mastery of the art of diplomacy in such situations.

“I do not understand why everything surrounding my father is cloaked in such secrecy.” Legolas stated, a small muscle in his jaw extending slightly as he spoke.

“It is not about being secretive.” Lenwë told him quietly. “Lórinand has always been known as a place of solitude for those who seek it and it is given.”

“Tauriel came here searching for that.” Legolas stated, his gaze flickering angrily about the room as if he searched for his words. “Yet he came here and he forced her to return with him. Who was helping her?” He asked, finally turning his eyes toward the Lord of the Vale.

“Your father is very private.” Lenwë said as a frown creased his normally smooth brow. “Even if I were one to share the business of others, in this matter I cannot help you as he did not discuss it with me. Certainly you must know that your fathers’ reach outside of Mirkwood is long indeed.”

“I am beginning to understand this.” Legolas said quietly, his gaze once more shifting about the room before coming to rest on the flames on the hearth.

“You are more than welcome to stay here if you would like.” Lenwë informed him as he rose to his feet. “I will have Tíránist show you to a room or you may follow the path to the inn within Lórinand.”

“How far is it?” Legolas asked, pushing himself up from the comfort of the chair.

“Not far.” Lenwë replied. “But I will warn you now young prince. The more questions you ask, the less answers you will get.”

“Thank you for your hospitality and your council.” Legolas stated, nodding respectfully to the lord. “If you do not mind, I will go on to Lórinand.”

“Tíránist.” Lenwë called out quietly but clearly once the young prince has departed. 

“My lord?” Tíránist answered quickly, stepping just inside the sitting room.

“Take a horse from the stable and go quickly by the way of the edge of the forest to the Lady Gilaiwë. Tell her that the Prince of Mirkwood has arrived.” Lenwë informed him.

“Thranduil, I hope you know what you are doing.” He sighed to himself, sinking back down in the chair as the servant departed to deliver the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


	5. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil keeps his word to Galion about speaking the truth to Tauriel, yet he does not name who his other partners are. His best-laid plans have now created a wide divide between them as Tauriel retreats from him. Will he be able to win her back? Will he try?

Standing back, Thranduil surveyed the sitting area before the enormous hearth in his public room. He wanted everything to be perfect for what he knew could possibly be the first and the last time he shared private moments with Tauriel. He had only made a few changes. The long multicolored braided rug that normally lay in front of the hearth had been replaced with thick furs to make it more comfortable for sitting. He had also brought out a few large pillows that were soft yet sturdy enough to lean against. Satisfied that it would suit his purposes for the evening, he made his way into his bath chamber to get ready.

Smiling to himself as he stripped down and climbed into the long deep copper tub, he let his thoughts wander to his outing with Tauriel that morning. Although the forest was undeniably more beautiful in the warmer months, he enjoyed the privacy his winter cloak had provided for his roaming hands. Slathering himself with the scented soap, his smile turned mischievous as he thought of the possibility of future outings where he could be a little bolder with his roaming fingers.

Even as he daydreamed of such things, there was the ever present knot in his stomach that she may reject him. While she seemed more than enamored with him at the moment, elleth’s (elf maiden) were more often less willing to accept or excuse certain indiscretions. The bond between himself and Galion was strong, he had been his friend, confidante and lover for over three millennia and he was not willing to give him up.

He knew too that she still had feelings for Legolas and while it was true, he had been cruel to tell her that she was not the only elleth (elf maiden) that had appreciated the intimate comforts from his son. These were things she would need to work out on her own and in her own way. He felt a deep sadness for her at the loss of the dwarf. Yet in some ways he felt the finality of his death would be easier for her find a place in her heart to keep his memory than it will be with her feelings for his son.

Lifting himself from the still steaming water, he quickly toweled himself dry before heading into his bed chamber. Throwing open the doors of the tall oaken wardrobes that lined the far wall, he stood back mostly to survey the colors. Long flowing robes were too formal for the ambiance he wanted to create for the evening. He favored the deep forest green yet it would not do for what he wanted tonight. Rummaging through his hip length tunics, he found a long sleeved pale green silk that he thought would be best. It was one that buttoned up the front without the customary band collar as most of his tunics. Slipping it on as he walked to his bureau, he sorted through the drawers until he found the soft black silk leggings he wanted.

Dressing quickly, he examined himself in the tall silvered glass on the wall as he brushed out his long tresses. Laying the brush back on his dressing table, he decided the tunic would look better tucked into the leggings, accenting his sender hips and broad shoulders. Pulling on the soft boots he preferred when he was in his personal chambers, he inspected himself one last time in the silvered glass. Smiling, he reached up and unbuttoned the top three buttons, exposing a little more of his chest.

“It is what it is.” He said to himself as he turned toward his dressing table, pausing for a moment he decided against the circlet.

Satisfied with himself, he walked out of the bed chamber and went straight to the wine cupboard in the far corner of his pubic sitting room. Choosing a small goblet, he filled it and took a long drink to steady himself. Refilling the goblet, he collected the carafe as well as a second goblet and carried them to the low table between the tall wing backed chairs in front of the hearth.

Turning toward the flames, he let his thoughts wander as he waited for Galion. Watching the flames dance along the logs, he thought of the other elleth’s (elf maiden) from whom he had sought comfort over the long years since Athëálÿssíä had abandoned him and their son. There had been many brief encounters and short lived relationships, with Gilaiwë the only constant in his life. He had for the most part sought his intimate comforts from Galion with only a few other ellyn’s (male elf) over the years during his visits to Lórinand and Imladris.

Yet he knew that even if she accepted that part of him, there was still his oath to the crown that he could not break or even bend. Until the throne was secured by the legitimate birth of a Sindar heir, he was forbidden by decree to marry anyone other than a Sindar. Having suffered through the pain and heartbreak of a forced arranged marriage, he had promised himself he would not do that to his only child.

Startled from his heavy thoughts, Thranduil almost chuckled as Galion entered, chattering away as usual. Turning toward him, he shook his head as he watched him carry the heavily laden tray to the table on the far side of the room.

“As usual you bring a feast.” He chided him with a smile, clasping his shoulder as he walked up behind him.

“Well, I know what you prefer. I have no idea about her.” Galion stated rather defensively as he narrowed his eyes at him. “So I brought some of almost everything.”

“It’s fine Galion.” He laughed as he leaned down, kissing him on the top of his head. “Did you give her my message?” He asked, picking up a few of the nuts as Galion began setting the various bowls and plates on the table.

“Yes, I did.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes at him. “She was quite relieved I must say.” He added setting the tray aside as he went to the small cupboard to collect two plates. “Should I bother with the tea pot?” He asked, turning to look up at him.

“Go ahead.” Thranduil replied, grinning at him as he noted Galions’ not so subtle glance at his goblet.

Grabbing a handful of the nuts as he went to fetch the water for the teapot, Thranduil smiled to himself and walked back toward the hearth. Most of the logs had now caught fire and cast a warm glow about the room. He could feel his nervousness rising in the pit of his stomach as he stood there watching the flames. He could not remember a time when he felt the need to put so much effort into trying to impress anyone, particularly someone he was intimately interested in. Having grown up being treated more like his own child, Tauriel did not have the awe of his position as did others.

“Well.” Galion stated as he turned away from hanging the teapot near the flames. “Everything is set, so I will leave you now.” He said as he touched Thranduils’ arm. “All you have to do is be yourself.”

“That is not as easy as it sounds.” Thranduil sighed, but smiled at him. “I have been a king far longer than I have been myself.”

Nodding, Galion simply patted his arm as he turned and walked away from him, leaving him to his own thoughts.

The minutes seemed drag by yet the time seemed to disappear as he heard the soft knock at his door. Setting the goblet on the mantel piece, Thranduil walked calmly toward it.

“Come in.” He said quietly as he opened the door for her. His gaze trailed quickly over the deep blue dress that draped her body and complemented her perfectly.

“I hope you are hungry.” He told her as he led her further into the room. “Galion always brings more than anyone could eat and tonight it is worse because he was not sure what you would like.”

Tauriel glanced around the sprawling room, all of it brought back so many fond memories of her childhood. Her gaze rested for a moment on the tall wing backed chairs in front of the enormous hearth. She had spent many nights there in his lap as he read her stories, always giving in when she would beg him for just one more. She would fall asleep in the comfort of his arms and he would carry her to her own room and put her to bed himself.

“I’m sure I will find plenty to eat.” She laughed softly, turning her attention back to him as her stomach twisted in knots.

“I thought it would be nice if we sit by the fire.” He said quietly as he slipped his arm loosely around her, resting his hand gently on her hip as he guided her toward the table.

Tauriel struggled with the myriad of strange feelings that washed over her. He was her king yet in many ways he was so much more than that to her. It had been so easy all those years ago to put him up on that tall pedestal, so high that she could not reach him. Content to admire him from afar, she had felt safe. Somehow he had managed to climb down from that tall pedestal, reawakening all those feelings she had thought were long buried.

“You have no right!” Her heart screamed at him even as she smiled up at him.

Gone were the stately robes of his position, he wore no crown or circlet as he stood there before her now. This was a side of him she had not seen since she was a child and she found him even more beautiful as she looked up into the softness that seemed to shine from the depths of those sapphire pools.

“Everything looks wonderful.” She said as she picked up one of the plates. Curiously paying attention to his choices of nothing but fruit, vegetables, cheese, nuts and sweet bread. Making a mental note that he avoided both the fish and the meat, even though there was still plenty of room on his plate.

Frowning inwardly, he watched her as they walked toward the hearth. Perplexed by her unusual silence, he struggled to find the words to help her relax and make normal conversation. He felt the tension in his stomach tighten as they sat their plates on the table and made themselves comfortable on the furs.

“I have always loved this room.” She said quietly as she lifted the folds of her dress, sinking down onto the soft furs. “It reminds me of the forest.”

“Oh?!” He exclaimed, relief spreading over his face as the silence broke between them.

“Yes.” She laughed at the expression on his face. “It’s filled with the colors of all the seasons in the forest. The different shades of green and the all the colors of autumn.”

“I never really thought about it.” He chuckled, picking up a piece of cheese as he watched her.

“I find it comforting.” She smiled, more than aware of the way he looked at her.

Although she sensed his discomfort, she met his gaze evenly as she continued to talk about her love of the forest. Avoiding the topic of her former position as a captain in the patrols, she watched him as she drew him into the conversation with questions about his knowledge of the trees, flora and animals of the forest. Slowly guiding the topic to their outing that morning and the Länciföliûm flower left in her room.

“I am sorry.” He said quietly, feeling the heat of his embarrassment creep into his face as he looked away from her for a moment.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” She asked as she reached over, clasping his hand firmly.

“I have much to be sorry for.” He sighed as he reached for the carafe of wine on the table. “I have wronged you.” He said quietly as he filled both goblets.

“You have done so such thing!” She exclaimed, her heart ached at the agony she saw on his face and in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

“Tauriel.” He groaned as he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “It was selfish of me and I had no right to force you to come back here.”

“Thranduil...” She began as she pulled away from him.

“Listen to me Tauriel.” He interrupted her firmly. “I told you we needed to talk and there is no easy way to say what needs to be said.”

It was only the pain she saw in his eyes that silenced her as they stared at each other for long moments, a pain and tension that etched itself into his beautiful face like a web.

“I cannot lie to you.” He said finally, breaking the heavy silence between them. “I do not deny that I desire you.” He continued, his tone as strained as the expression on his face. “But I will not deceive you.”

“How do you deceive me?!” She stated more than asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“Come here.” He smiled, seeing the familiar fire rise in her eyes, giving him a strange kind of comfort as he shifted her to lay her back against his chest.

“I care deeply for you but I cannot give you what you deserve.” He said, tightening his arms around her as he leaned down to press his cheek against her temple. “It was not my intention to hurt you in denying any pledge my son may have made to you. It has little to do with your Silvan heritage.” He said quickly as he took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “By decree, until he gives me a legitimate heir, neither of us are free to take a wife other than a Sindar.”

“Legitimate heir?” She asked, her voice was barely above a whisper, staring into the hearth as she felt her heart breaking.

“My father decreed from the beginning that only a legitimately born Sindar could ascend to the throne. If anything should happen to Legolas, that responsibility falls to me.” He told her quietly.

“He knew this?” She asked, instinctively pressing herself tighter against him.

“Yes.” He replied quietly as he cupped her chin, turning her to face him. “I am sorry.” He whispered as he kissed her forehead.

“For as much as I desire to be with you. You deserve someone who can give themselves to you completely. Something I cannot do.” He continued when she remained silent.

“I understand that your first obligation is to the crown.” She said quietly, as difficult as it was to accept there was a small part of her understood what he was telling her.

“It has nothing to do with the crown.” He said, stiffening as she jerked free of him and swung to face him.

“Who is she?” Tauriel asked, her eyes flashed angrily at him.

“She is in Lórinand but he is here.” He admitted as he braced himself, making no move to avoid or block the blow that stung his face sharply as she slapped him.

“How dare you!” She hissed as she watched him close his eyes to her and slightly bow his head away from her. “Look at me damn you!” She demanded, her heart pounding in her throat.

“Tauriel...”

“No!” She exclaimed, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. “I don’t want to know anymore. You have not wronged me.” She continued, her voice thick with emotion as she fought back the tears. “You have done far worse, you manipulated me.” She stated as she pushed herself to her feet. “I can see myself out.”

Sighing heavily, Thranduil watched her as she strode purposefully toward the door. Making no move to stop her, he picked up one of the goblets and drank deeply from it as he stared into the flames of the hearth. His cheek stung horribly where she had struck him, but it was the pain in his heart that he felt the deepest.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
Sitting alone at one of the corner tables the young prince of Mirkwood was unaware of the two Sindar elves who watched him intently from across the large dining room. His slender fingers wrapped around the mug of ale that he had been nursing for most of the evening, the plate of food at his elbow was barely touched. The firm set of his jaw revealed more to his observers than he would have preferred as his thoughts grew darker and angrier.

“There is too much of his grandfather in him.” Gilaiwë said quietly, her fingers twirling the stem of her wine glass. “Tóriôn said he has spoken to no one since he arrived last night.”

“Yes.” Lenwë agreed, his soft gray blue eyes darkened slightly. “He has much anger in him for his father.”

“It’s never a good thing when two ellyn (male elf) love the same elleth (elf maiden).” She sighed heavily as she turned to look up at him.

“Love?” He frowned deeply as he turned toward her.

“Thranduil may deny the truth to me with his words but I know him far better than anyone.” She stated as she turned her attention back to the young prince. “He claims that he is only Tauriels’ protector, that he feels responsible for her. For most of her life he has nurtured and watched her grow into a beautiful young elleth (elf maiden). His heart is not as cold as he would like most to believe. It does not surprise me that he would fall in love with her.”

“Where one father was too controlling, the other follows his heart.” He said almost as if to himself.

“Legolas will have to find his own way.” Gilaiwë said as she picked up the wine glass. “The fate of the heart of Mirkwood now rests in her hands.” She sighed as she sipped the dry white wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an unexpected visit from Galion, Tauriel finds that she has much to think about when it comes to Thranduil. Legolas finds the courage to confront the one he believes is the cause of his mother abandoning him only to learn enough to raise more questions within him. Thranduil finds solace in the arms of his childhood friend and longtime lover.

Irritated at the soft but persistent knock at her door, Tauriel slipped the marker within the pages of the book she had been reading and laid it aside.

“Tauriel?” Came a soft familiar voice of the kings’ personal servant.

“Come in.” She called out as she rose to her feet.

“Galion.” She acknowledged him as soon as he entered. “What brings you here?” She asked, schooling her expression as she felt her anger rising.

“I was hoping we could have a chance to sit and talk for a bit.” He said quietly, smiling warmly as he walked toward her.

“I have cinnamon spiced hazel nut tea if you like.” She replied, turning toward the small cupboard to collect another cup and saucer. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.” She added, waving her hand toward one of the chairs in front of the hearth.

“First of all dear.” He said quietly as he stopped her, taking her hands gently in his own as he smiled warmly at her. “I am here of my own accord. I thought you might need a friend.”

Tilting her head slightly, Tauriel narrowed her eyes at him as she instinctively stiffened. The old elf was much respected among the various circles, nobles included, regardless of the fact that he was considered by most to be the kings’ eyes and ears within the palace.

“Forgive me if I am a little distrusting under the circumstances.” She stated as she turned away from him. “Please sit.” She added in a lighter tone as she continued toward the cupboard.

“Nothing to forgive.” Galion told her, watching her closely as he seated himself comfortably in the chair. “I have four sisters.” He began as she returned and collected the teapot from the hearth, filling the cup for him. “I understand a little more than most.”

“You have never spoken of your family.” She said cautiously as she seated herself opposite him, eyeing him suspiciously. In truth she had had little interest or reason to come to know anything about the kings’ personal servant over the years.

“Most of them still live in the vales just outside of Lórinand.” He commented, picking up the teacup. “Only my sister Minûiáliën followed me here.” He added almost absently, deciding that she might be more willing to be open with him if she felt he was doing the same.

“Is that where the two of you met?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her for the moment. The mention of Lórinand was not lost on her yet she chose to ignore it.

“Oh no dear.” He chuckled softly, pausing to take a sip of the tea, knowing exactly who she was referring to. “I lived with him for a time there but I met him and his father when the Sindar first arrived here. Thranduil was but a young elfling at that time. I took care of him for the most part, he was not much older than you were when you became a ward of the king.”

“Where was his mother?” She asked, taking a sip from her own cup, hiding her slight smile at the thought of Thranduil as a little elfling. Still she studied him, wondering what purpose he had in visiting her since he had never had any interest or dealings with her in the past.

“I never met his mother.” He sighed but smiled warmly. “She died before they left Lindon and Oropher never took another wife.”

“He could not find one among the other Sindar who came with him?” She asked, her tone was cutting as she was unable to squash the anger that rose again so quickly in her heart.

“Don’t you think you are being unreasonably selfish?” Galion asked, his expression hardening as he pinioned her with an angry gaze that matched her own.

“Excuse me?!” She blurted, nearly spilling her tea. “I’m being selfish?!” Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him.

“Has he touched you in that way? Forced himself upon you?” Galion asked, arching a brow at her. “I think not. Yes he is arrogant and I suppose I have spoiled him beyond measure yes. But I know him well enough to know that he would never take advantage of anyone in that way, especially you.” He stated firmly, refusing to back away from her.

“I think you should look deeper if you truly wish to find the answers you seek.” He continued, taking advantage of the fact that she was too startled to speak.

“So you think this is my fault?” She asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“Absolutely not!” Galion exclaimed, shaking his head. “It is no one’s fault. Your pain and your anger have blinded you Tauriel.” He said quietly. “My mother once told me that a son is a son until he takes a wife, but daughter is a daughter for life, and you are the daughter he could never have and I do not believe he thought beyond that when he became so attached to you. I do not know the extent of his feelings for you as he does not discuss these things with me.”

“I don’t know Galion.” She said quietly, her hands trembling as she leaned forward, placing the cup and saucer on the table. “It was a foolish dream.” She added more firmly as she turned her gaze toward the flames in the hearth. “I am more than grateful for everything he has done for me and will always love him as if he were my father. I think I could have shared him with the crown...” Her voice trailed off as she thought of his other loves.

“But?” Galion pressed, sensing that some of her walls had begun to crack.

“I cannot share his heart. I did not know...” She stated, then stopped herself as she turned back to face him.

“Tauriel.” Galion sighed, setting the cup and saucer on the table as he rose to his feet. “He has been alone for most of his life. Both of you must do what you think is best for yourselves.”

Frowning, a thousand questions filled her mind as she watched him turn and walk away from her. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she turned back to the hearth, her thoughts no longer filled with questions but memories. Shaking herself from her reverie, she pushed herself up from the chair and paced the length of the hearth until her hunger pangs reminded her that she had not eaten anything since she had stormed out of the kings’ chamber last night.

It was late but the dining hall was still considerably full as she entered. The evening meal served as much as much of a social event to many of the elves, as they moved from one table to another visiting with each other. Out of habit now her eyes went to the dais if only to catch a glimpse of him. He was seated in the middle with Aldalómës’ father, Lord Garävegión to his right and the Lady Laurefindë to his left with her hand on his arm. His face lit up beautifully as he smiled warmly at her, his head tiled slightly toward her as he listened with interest to whatever she was saying to him. Turning away quickly so he would not see her looking, she scanned the room for a familiar face but found no one. Most of the patrols would have returned to their post or gathered at the barracks by this time. Finding an empty seat near the kitchen, she ate her meal in silence.

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Arching a brow at the knock on her door at such a late hour, Gilaiwë glanced toward Tóriôn as she set her tea cup on the table beside her. He rose at her nod and left her private parlor in the back of her cottage to answer it.

“I would like to speak with the Lady Gilaiwë.” The visitor stated, she recognized the dialect and knew it was the young prince from Mirkwood.

“This way please.” Tóriôn stated quietly as he led him through the sitting room to her private parlor.

Entering the room Legolas was taken aback slightly as his gaze fell on the small childlike figure seated in front of the hearth. Schooling his expression as she turned her oval face toward him, long golden tendrils slipped over shoulder, spilling into her lap. It was only when he looked into the deep blue eyes that he saw the great age about her.

“I would like to speak to you alone.” He said quietly, his gaze fixed on the beautiful golden elf before him. Feeling slightly irritated when the dark haired elf just stood there.

“Welcome Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm.” She said softly, her voice was barely above a whisper yet it could be heard clearly throughout the room. “Would you care for wine or tea?” She asked, her tone and mannerism unchanged as she openly studied him.

“I am fine thank you.” He replied, still staring at her as she nodded to the dark haired elf, who immediately took his leave of them.

“Please.” She waved her hand toward the chair opposite her. “What brings you to my humble abode at such a late hour?” She asked as she leaned back in her chair.

“I know who you are.” Legolas stated as he seated himself across from her.

“And who am I?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Your anger makes you very bold pen neth.” (Young one) She thought to herself with little amusement.

“You are the reason my mother left.” He stated, his eyes flashed slightly before he could school his expression.

“If it makes you happy to believe that, then so be it.” Gilaiwë said quietly, turning away from him to pick up her tea cup.

“Then you do not deny it.” He stated as he straightened in the chair, the muscle in his cheek flexed.

“You will believe whatever satisfies your own purposes.” She stated, her voice now full, rang clearly throughout the cottage. “I am your fathers’ oldest and closest friend. I knew his mother before he was even conceived.” She informed him, guarding her tone as she stared at him. “Oh yes pen neth (little one), you should fear me.” She added silently as his eyes widened slightly if only for an instant.

“You will not find the answers you seek here.” She continued, pausing to sip her tea and let her words sink in. 

“Why does everyone protect him?” Legolas asked as he governed his tone. While he felt no threat from her, a brief glimpse of her power was enough to warn him not to anger her. “Why does he feel he can just take whatever he wants?”

“Ah, I see.” Gilaiwë said quietly, her voice carried an almost musical undercurrent of laughter as she smiled at him. “You are in love with this...”

“Tauriel.” He interrupted her. “Her name is Tauriel.” He stated clearly, lowering his tone slightly yet he continued to hold her gaze.

“Love her or not, you are bound by the same oath as he.” She told him, frowning slightly as she watched the storm building behind the pale blue eyes that stared back at her. She felt the war within him, a battle between the part of him that was his father, but there was also that part of him that was his grandfather.

“Why does everyone here talk in riddles?!” He exclaimed, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“You do not listen, that is why you do not understand.” Gilaiwë began quietly. “When we were young, your father and I held little concern for the orthodox ways of our people. Unfortunately, as we grew older, we began to understand that duties and responsibilities of a crown outweigh the wants and needs of the bearer. One day fate may put that crown on your head, until then you must search within yourself for the strength and the courage to wear it.”

“What about love?” Legolas asked quietly, his eyes now seemed to implore her for answers.

“Love pays no part in the plans of fate I’m afraid.” She replied absently as her thoughts turned Thranduils’ last visit.

“Then you do love him.” Legolas stated, staring at her curiously.

“Not the way you think I do.” She told him pointedly. “I am one of your fathers’ oldest friends and his ally that is all.”

“Then I must apologize for my accusations.” He stated, his shoulders slumping somewhat. “My father does not speak to me of himself, his past, my mother.” He sighed, his gaze flickered about the room as if he searched for his words.

“Legolas.” She said quietly, smiling softy as he turned to look at her. “You must not judge him too harshly. He was younger than you are now when he was forced upon a throne he did not want and the Thranduil I knew was gone, in his place stood a king.”

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Shifting his gaze at the slight movement, Thranduil smiled slightly as he watched Galion enter his bed chamber. Illuminated perfectly in the soft glow of the flames in the hearth, his gaze flickered over him as he watched him undress, meeting the soft green eyes as the servant walked toward the bed.

“You always seem to know when I need you most.” Thranduil said softly as he moved the covers aside and pulled him into a warm embrace, kissing him tenderly.

Returning the kiss, Galion said nothing as he pressed himself along the length his body, enjoying the feel of the roaming hands that caressed his back. Taking his face in his hands, Galion placed soft kisses over his face before capturing his mouth in a long searching kiss.

Surrendering his mouth to him, Thranduil clung to him as he rolled on top of him. Sighing softly, he slipped his arms beneath his shoulders, cradling his head in his hands. Thrusting his tongue deeper, he kissed him hungrily as he breathed in the familiar scent of him. Here in this room they were not a king and servant but lovers as they had been for nearly three millennia.

Releasing his mouth, he nipped playfully at his chin as he trailed his kisses to the softer flesh of his neck. Burying his face against the warmth, Thranduil enjoyed the feel of his squirming body beneath him as he kissed the sensitive spot just below his ear. Smiling to himself as he felt his fingers tangle themselves in his hair, pressing his mouth tighter against him.

“Tonight I am hungry.” He said quietly, pulling back slightly. Smiling almost wickedly as he admired the perfect balance of beauty and masculinity of Galions’ face. His soft moss green eyes looked back at him through half closed lids framed in long dark sooty lashes. Dropping his gaze to the slightly parted lips, he felt a subtle twitch in his groin as Galion ran the tip of his tongue teasingly across his upper lip.

Chuckling softly, Thranduil moved down, placing soft kisses over his chest, tracing the tip of his tongue along the warm skin toward his taut stomach. Listening to his soft moans, he sought out all of the sensitive places that he knew so well as he continued to move lower. Raking his nails gently down his sides as he settled himself between his thighs, he ignored his swollen sex as he sought the tender spot just below the hollow at his hip.

“Thranduil!” Galion choked as his thighs instinctively tried to close against the overwhelming surge of pleasure washed over him.

Ignoring him, Thranduil smiled to himself as he gently pushed his knees farther apart, kissing the trembling flesh of his inner thigh. Grasping his hips to hold him still, he slowly trailed his lips upward, tasting the sweet nectar of his arousal with a flick of his tongue. Taking him in his mouth, he slowly swallowed the length of him as he buried his face against the warmth of his groin.

Trembling as the warm sheath of his mouth engulfed him, Galion struggled for control of his body. He felt his passion boiling deep within him as Thranduils’ gentle suckling slowly grew in earnest. Groaning softly, he knew it was a futile effort as his hips rocked forward of their own volition. Stiffly, his fingertips caressed Thranduils’ cheeks as the tension continued to build almost painfully within him. Crying out through clenched teeth, Galion drove himself into the deliciously torturous mouth as his release spewed forth. Trembling, he closed his thighs against him as Thranduil continued to suckle him gently, pulling the last dregs from him.

Moving upward as Galion finally relaxed, Thranduil slipped one arm beneath him. Kissing him tenderly, he was content for the moment to hold him and touch him. Nuzzling his neck with soft kisses, he drew the tips of his fingers teasingly along the flesh of his hip, caressing him lovingly as he savored the feel of his still trembling body beneath him.

“I am in no hurry.” He chuckled softly as he grasped Galions’ wrist, pulling his hand away from his own aching sex. Capturing his mouth before he could protest, Thranduil kissed him deeply as he shifted his body slightly over him.

Willing his body to relax, Thranduil ran his fingers through his silken chestnut hair as he kissed his forehead. Smiling to himself, he placed soft kisses over his face as memories of their many long years together flittered through his thoughts. Galion had been the one constant in his life from the beginning, understanding him like few others could.

Untangling himself from him, Thranduil pushed himself to his knees as he reached for the small tin of herbal salve he kept in a carved box in the headboard. Grasping the shelf for support, his breath caught in his throat as he felt the warmth of Galions’ lips close around the crown of his sex. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt his tongue flicker teasingly over the surface, sending shivers through him.

“Not so soon.” He told him as he pulled free of him and collected the tin.

Scooping an ample amount with his finger he lowered himself back onto the bed, settling between his thighs. Meeting his gaze, he smiled as he reached down, spreading it over the tight wrinkled muscle, teasing him for long moments before entering him. Quickly finding the tiny spot that would bring him pleasure, he moved his fingertip in a circular motion, massaging it gently as he watched him. Patiently, inserting a second then finally a third finger, he gently prepared him to accept him.

Rolling onto his stomach as the fingers slipped free of him, Galion braced himself as he moved over him. Relaxing, he felt him use his knee to spread his thighs, positioning him as he lowered himself onto him. Soft groans mingled with whimpers escaped his lips as Thranduil wrapped his arms around him and entered him in one slow thrust.

Pressing his cheek against the top of his head, Thranduil closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the tight warm sheath as he gently rocked against him. Taking him in long easy thrusts, he listened to the soft moans as he leaned down, kissing his cheek. Slowly as the pressure built within him, he held tighter to him, whispering soft love words in his ear. Stiffening as he felt the tension suddenly break within him, his breath came in ragged gasps as he thrust harder into him. Collapsing against him as the weakness of his release washed over him, he held onto him as waited for it to pass.

Turning to face him as Thranduil pulled the covers over them and wrapped his arms around him, Galion kissed him softly and snuggled against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story begins to deepen a little as more and more pieces of Thranduils' past comes to light!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	7. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Winter Solstice Celebration approaches in the Woodland Realm, Thranduil finds himself far less festive as he would have preferred with the unannounced arrival of his son. Tauriel finds herself caught between the two people that mean the most to her. Unexpected visitors create turmoil within her, forcing her to choose one only to lose the other forever.

Feeling overly stifled within the confines of her rooms, Tauriel longed for the freedom of the forest where she could run, feel the wind in her face and listen to the many voices of the rivers, streams and the animals that lived there. Wandering aimlessly through the familiar labyrinth of corridors in the lower levels of the palace, she struggled with myriad of feelings and unanswered questions that plagued her.

A soft smile touched her lips as she thought of Kili, with his happy smiling face and bright eyes so full of hope. She no longer felt pain with his memory, there was only the deep sadness of what might have been. She knew the sadness would also fade in time and she would be able to remember him with fondness. There was still so much pain in her heart when she thought of Legolas, abandoning her without even saying goodbye after what they had been to each other. Her pain was overshadowed by her anger at having been betrayed by him where the king had at least been forthright with her.

“Really Laûrläéthëe, you should have let me know you were coming.” Thranduil stated softly, his voice echoing in the spacious chamber. “I would have sent an escort to ensure your safety.” He continued, the disapproval in his tone was clear.

Ducking quickly into the shadows, Tauriel felt her heart leap into her throat at the sound of his voice. Pressing even tighter against the stone wall, she watched them as they came into view in the meditation room below.

“Thranduil please.” Laûrläéthëe stated, her frustration as evident as his disapproval. “The last thing I wanted was for naneth nîn (My mother) or you to worry about me. Lord Fládëithnôr took care of everything.”

“It is my responsibility to worry about you.” He stated, bringing her hands to his lips briefly. “Your naneth (Mother) would have a piece of my hide should anything happen to you.”

“Don’t be silly!” Laûrläéthëe laughed as she squeezed his hands. “Naneth (Mother) knows how stubborn I can be and she absolutely adores you.”

Turning quickly, Tauriel struggled against the threat of tears as she fled through the corridors toward the safety of her rooms. Forcing a smile and a nod to each passersby, she had not realized how far she had wandered while lost on her thoughts. It seemed as if it took forever before the door of her rooms loomed before her. Entering quickly, she nearly slammed it closed and leaned heavily against it.

Blinking at the tears that stung the backs of her eyes, the image of them and familiarity they seemed to share renewed her anger at him. She didn’t know who this Laûrläéthëe was, only that she was beautiful and Sindar. Thranduils’ reaction to not being informed of her visit made it obvious to her that she was of noble birth or at least important enough to warrant a royal escort. She found his comments about her mother rather disconcerting to say the least, causing her to wonder from where she had traveled for him to be so concerned about angering her.

Hugging herself as if she were cold, she walked slowly toward the yawning dark mouth of the hearth. It was too early for the servants to be making their way through the inhabited rooms to light the fires. Collecting the flint from the mantel, she knelt before the hearth and set about the task of lighting it herself. The evening meal was at least an hour away, but she knew she would not be going there tonight. There were enough dried fruits and nuts in her small cupboard to sustain her for a few nights she and could get more from the kitchen if she needed. Hanging the small teapot on the hook near the flames and walked over to the comfortable chair. Sinking into it, she tucked her legs beneath her and watched the tiny flames.

It had only been two days since she had spoken to him and there had no word from him. She was still not totally convinced that he had not sent Galion to speak with her although he denied it. She had seen him only during meals in the dining hall, watching him with downcast eyes from beneath the veil of her lashes as she pretended to eat her food. It was as if nothing had changed for him as he sat there in all his glory, smiling and casting glances about the room yet not once in her direction.

It hurt more than she would admit even to herself that he seemed to be able to brush her off so easily. He had recalled his personal guard yet had replaced them with captains from his regular forces, she presumed it was because she was friends with all of the captains within the forest patrols. Clearly his intentions were to keep her from fleeing again even though she had no idea where she would go. Lórinand was at least heavily populated with Wood elves who were kin to the Silvan elves, she could have been happy there.

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“Ouch!” Ivósaar grunted, grabbing the back of his head as he swung around and braced himself against the large tree trunk. Scanning the branches above him there was no signs of webs much less the shelob (spiders) themselves. In fact there was no sign of anything out there but himself and this was the third time something had hit him. Whoever was playing tricks on him was going to get it as soon as he caught them.

“Down here you fool!” An angry voice called out to him.

“Legolas!” He exclaimed as he quickly started down the long rope he had secured to his watch post earlier that morning. “Hey...”

“Be quiet!” Legolas hissed as Ivósaar got closer to the ground.

“What’s going on?!” Ivósaar asked, quickly scanning the area around them.

“Nothing.” Legolas grumbled as he stepped closer to him. “When do you change guards?” He asked quietly.

“It shouldn’t be long now, why? When did you come back?!” Ivósaar replied, a deep frown forming on his brow as he watched the young prince who had been the commander of the forest patrol until the battle in the shadows of the Lonely Mountain.

“I need to get in the palace unseen.” Legolas stated as he kept watching the area for Ivósaars’ replacement or signs of trouble.

“What?! Why?!” Ivósaar exclaimed, staring at him as if he had just grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

“Don’t ask questions!” Legolas hissed, glaring at him. “When you get off meet me at the pine glade just north of the stable doors. Tell no one you have seen me.” He told him.

“Okay, I’ll be there.” Ivósaar said and watched as the prince disappeared quickly into the thick grove of evergreens.

“Why do I not feel good about this?” He asked himself as he climbed back up to his position within the branches of the tree.

Sprinting north, Legolas was forced to move slower than he would have preferred as there were a number of watch stands that had been repositioned and they had increased in his absence. There had also been signs of thinning among the Elm, Oak, and Birch trees, favored by the shelob (spiders) for building their nests, which he presumed may have accounted for the relocating of some of the watch stands. Moving between the clustered stands of evergreens which were thankfully more prevalent in the northern regions of the forest, he hoped he had managed to reach the pine glade unnoticed.

Slipping through the narrow space between the waterfall and rocks, he moved toward the back where he found a rock ledge just wide enough for him to crouch and wait. Climbing on top of it, he crouched down with his back against the wall facing the opening in rocks and pulled his cloak tighter around him. He trusted Ivósaar and knew that if he said he would come that he would be there, his only concern was that he was not followed.

The time he had spent in Lórinand had been more than frustrating, not only did he not find the answers he sought, he left with more questions. The only thing he knew for certain was that Tauriel did not leave of her own choice. He had much time to think as he traveled north to the Woodland Realm and he wondered at the alliance between his father and the Lady Gilaiwë. She had been very protective of him even if they were not lovers, something he was not entirely convinced was not the case. He realized that both she and the Lord Lenwë were Vanyar, yet he had not sensed any unnatural powers from him. While all elves had the ability to manipulate the natural energies of nature, there were those of old who seemed to have the ability to reach deeper into the forces of nature.

“It took you long enough!” Legolas growled as he watched Ivósaar creep carefully into the cave.

“It’s not my fault!” He exclaimed, scanning the cave. “Träëliôrn was late getting out there to relieve me. I’m not saying that I won’t help you but first I need to at least know why you need to sneak into the palace.” He added as Legolas jumped down from his perch on the ledge.

“If you must know. I need to speak to my father but first I need a good bath and a nights rest before I deal with him.” Legolas stated as he walked toward the opening in the rocks. “Now are you going to help me or not?” He asked as he stopped at the opening and turned to face him.

“Fine, come on.” Ivósaar stated as he followed him. “Have you returned? Are you staying?” He asked as they set out east toward the palace.

“No.” Legolas stated, casting him a sideways glance. “I intend to leave and I will take Tauriel with me.”

“Good luck with that!” Ivósaar exclaimed, shaking his head.

“Why?!” Legolas demanded, grabbing his arm jerking him to a halt as he glared at him. “What do you know?!”

“The king has her under guard.” Ivósaar replied, wrenching his arm free. “She is not allowed to leave the palace.”

“Where is he keeping her?!” Legolas demanded, feeling his anger burning in his gut.

“Look, you need to calm down.” Ivósaar told him, frowning at him, his dark green eyes bore into the pale blue of the Prince. 

“I will not calm down!” Legolas exclaimed. “He has gone too far this time!”

“Legolas, listen to me.” Ivósaar implored him as he grasped his shoulders firmly, forcing him to look at him. “I know you still have feelings for her. You are right, you cannot face your father or her with your anger, you know this!” He exclaimed, staring into the angry eyes that were now clouded like a brewing storm.

“Most everyone should still be in the dining hall right now.” He continued as Legolas seemed to have gained some measure of control of himself. “I can get you in without being seen. You need to rest and gather yourself before you confront him.”

“Will you show me where she is?” Legolas asked, his shoulders slumping slightly as he realized his friend was right, there was nothing he could do tonight.

“I don’t have to show you.” Ivósaar said quietly, releasing him. “Her rooms are in the guest corridor. The last door before you descend to the kings’ private areas.” He told him, watching as the anger slowly began to rise again.

“Legolas.” He said quietly, still watching him. “I don’t think there is anything between them. The king has visited her a few times but from I’ve been told, he is not in there very long and he seems quite angry when he leaves.”

“So why does he keep her here if it is not...” He said quietly but stopped himself. “We must go. I will speak with my father in the morning when he is in his study. This concerns him and I, no one else.” He stated more firmly and turned away from him, heading in the direction of the stable doors.

“You wait outside.” Ivósaar said quietly as the huge stable doors came into view. “I will go in and distract Faÿláën, he always sends the stable hands to eat first, so he’s probably still in there.”

Nodding in agreement, Legolas ducked behind a large oak tree as Ivósaar sprinted toward the doors. Impatiently he scanned the trees, hoping he had not missed anything, the last thing he needed was to have his father alerted to his presence before he was ready to talk to him. There had already been harsh words between them that bothered Legolas for he truly loved him, yet he could not abide what he was doing to Tauriel. It may be too late for her to take him back, but he would not leave her as a prisoner in his fathers’ halls.

Moving quickly toward the door, he paused to listen for voices or the sound of movement within before slipping inside and heading straight for the lesser used passage through the storage cellar. The lower levels of the fortress were riddled with a labyrinth of narrow passages and tunnels that lead either up into the main halls or farther below toward the river as an escape route in the event the security of the fortress was breeched. Having lived in their fortress home for his entire life, Legolas knew them all.

Catching sight of the prince as he slipped silently into the passage, Ivósaar politely excused himself and followed him. Catching up with him, he led the way, keeping an eye out for anyone still moving about as they neared the mid-level of the palace where the majority of the personal chambers of the nobles and honored guests were located.

“Thank you.” Legolas stated quietly, clasping his friends shoulder as they reached the stairwell that would take him to his chambers. “I will speak you again before I depart.”

“You better!” Ivósaar exclaimed, still keeping his voice as hushed as possible before bounding up the few steps to the next level.

Retrieving his key as he waited for his signal, Legolas felt himself tensing and struggled to suppress his rising anger. Relieved as Ivósaar nodded the coast was clear, he raced past him and made his way toward his private chambers. Safely inside the darkened room, he turned the latch and leaned against the heavy oaken door, expelling the breath he had not realized he had been holding.

Pausing only long enough to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, he signed heavily as he dropped his pack in the small alcove near the door. Removing his cloak, he hung it on a peg as he tried to clear his mind and gain control of himself. Moving about the large sitting room he lit a few of the lanterns and set about the task of lighting a fire in the hearth, he felt some of the tension leave him.

Crouching silently before the hearth as he watched the growing flames leaping almost playfully along the logs, he allowed his thoughts to turn to her. Guilt and sadness gripped him as he was forced to accept the fact that he had abandoned her in her time of need. The dwarf was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. Tauriel had been his friend first for many years, a sibling he would never have in truth. Unaware of the soft smile that curled the corners of his lips, he thought of how she had attached herself to him all those years ago, following him around like an irritating little sister.

Always with her undaunted childish excitement, wanting to go where ever he went and do what he was doing. Throwing her little temper tantrums much to his fathers’ dismay when he would not allow her to accompany him into the forest with his friends. Looking back now, part of him understood that he shouldered the blame for his fathers’ attachment to her as she sought him out for comfort when he officially joined the forest patrol. She was still just an elfling at the time, a child who clearly felt abandoned by him when he could no longer be bothered by her clinging ways.

Over the years, seemingly without his notice, Tauriel had grown into a beautiful young elleth (elf maiden) who caught the attentions of many ellyn (male elf). Frowning as he gazed into the now brightly burning flames in the hearth, he wondered when she stopped being that irritating little sister and became so much more to him. She had excelled with the bow as well as the knife and was a fearless fighter in defense of the realm. Slowly his admiration and fondness of her grew into love and yes pride in her skills, he knew she had his back and he had hers.

He felt his heart skip a few beats as his thoughts turned to that day when everything changed, the first time he had worked up the courage to steal a kiss from her. In that single moment, when he felt the tremble in her lips she was no longer the fearless warrior, she became a something he cherished and needed to protect from all harm. He was far from being unfamiliar in the ways of pleasuring of elleth’s, (elf maiden) yet to him Tauriel was special, she was precious to him. She had stolen his heart the day she had willingly gifted him with her maidenhood.

Angrily he pushed himself up from the floor and made his way back through his bed chamber, pausing only to light the hearth before making his way into his bath chamber. Lifting the lever at the head of the long copper tub, he was more than thankful for the constant flow of heated water. Summoning servants to prepare a bath for him would only alert his father to his presence and he was not yet ready to deal with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I hope you are enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it!


	8. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the palace prepares for the Winter Solstice Festival, Legolas returns to confront his father. Tauriel finds comfort in an old friend as Legolas struggles with the need to convince her of his love for her.

“Galion, you know very well I trust you in these matters for a reason.” Thranduil sighed heavily as he scratched his name boldly across the bottom of the request. “You and Alythiyiá have never managed to disappoint me yet.” He added as he gathered the papers and stacked them neatly before handing them to him.

“I’m glad you always approve.” Galion stated somewhat flippantly as he accepted the requests. “I ask for your approval simply as a matter of principle. Not to mention I would not need to make last minute changes if you saw fit to inform me of extra guests. You did not seem to feel it necessary to inform me that Lady Laûrläéthëe safely arrived the other day...”

“That will be all Galion.” Thranduil stated, meeting his gaze briefly before turning away from him to gather yet another stack of papers that required his attention.

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). Galion stated, stiffening as he abruptly turned on his heel and departed the kings’ private study.

“Why do you chide him so?” Lord Garävegión chuckled from his comfortable seat in the corner of the room.

“Because I can.” Thranduil said quietly as he glanced up at him, his sapphire eyes dancing with amusement. “Besides, if I annoy him enough he will come to my chambers tonight to scold me and I will have to beg forgiveness by taking him into my bed.” He added, a slow smile curling his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

“I will never understand the relationship between the two of you.” Lord Garävegión sighed, shaking his head. “Never the less, it has survived for many years and he has been good for you.”

“He is special to me.” Thranduil said quietly, almost thoughtfully as he pushed himself up from the chair and made his way to the wine cupboard. “I received a message from Lady Gilaiwë, she will be joining us for the Winter Solstice this year.” He said as he picked up the wine carafe and turned toward his desk to refill his goblet.

“And Lenwë?” Lord Garävegión asked, arching a brow.

“He sends his regards but has chosen to remain in Lórinand.” Thranduil stated as he moved back toward his chair. “It would seem that Amroth has forsaken his rightful place as heir and he feels that his presence there is needed there more than here. Unfortunately I am forced to agree with him as I fully understand his position.” He sighed heavily, his gaze meeting that of his longtime friend and chief advisor.

“Like Legolas, he has never had a desire to follow in his fathers’ footsteps.” Lord Garävegión replied, his gaze taking on a faraway look for a moment.

“Yes.” Thranduil sighed, stretching out the word as if reluctant to agree. “I cannot force him to stay. But it raises a difficult situation I want to discuss with you.”

Frowning at the kings’ strange expression, Lord Garävegión remained silent as he leaned forward, studying him. Beyond the many losses during the battle in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain that had pained the king very much, it was the absence of his son that had been the most difficult for him to come to terms with in his mind and more particularly in his heart.

“Years ago I swore I would never force him into a marriage he did not want.” Thranduil said quietly as he looked down into the dark liquid in his goblet. “As sweet as the prospect would be to see my halls filled with the laughter of grandchildren, I would not bring the same pain upon him or any prospective wife I might choose.”

“Is this something you are now considering?” Lord Garävegión asked curiously. It was a topic he had brought up in the past and always Thranduil had refused to even think on the issue.

“Actually.” Thranduil began, turning to study him. “I would feel more comfortable if we were to completely abandon my fathers’ decree that places a higher value on a Sindar over any other.”

“I see.” Lord Garävegión smiled. “This would not have anything to do with a certain young elleth (elf maiden).” He added, his smile broadening as he watched the stain of a slight blush creep up from beneath the kings’ collar.

“We are all Tawarwaith through our Teleri ancestry. There should be no preference.” Thranduil stated, ignoring the question as he frowned at him. “I think it was only my fathers’ experiences in Doriath and his contempt for the Noldor that inspired him to make such a decree.”

“In the time since your fathers’ death much has changed not just in the world but here. It grows more difficult to claim a pure line.” Lord Garävegión said thoughtfully. “It is within your power to dissolve the decree if you so choose.”

“Why do I feel it will not be that easy?” He arched a brow at his advisor.

“There will those who may disagree...”

“I need to speak with you Father.” Legolas stated as he boldly marched into the study, the flash of anger that shown within his pale blue eyes belied his calm but firm tone.

“Leave us.” Thranduil stated as he rose to his feet, meeting his sons’ angry gaze evenly, his thoughtful expression now replaced with a familiar guarded mask of indifference.

“Why?” Legolas asked as soon as the door closed behind the advisor, stepping back slightly as his father walked around his desk.

“It is good to see you too ion nîn (my son).” Thranduil commented, smiling slightly as he regarded his sons’ angry stance before him. 

“I will not play word games with you Father.” Legolas stated, watching his father lower himself slightly onto the edge of his desk. “You know very well what I’m talking about.”

“Legolas.” Thranduil sighed, clasping his hands loosely in front of him as he tilted his head slightly in that knowing way he knew irritated his son. “I know a great many things.” He said, narrowing his eyes at him in warning. “Perhaps you should explain yourself. You can start by telling me why you thought it necessary to sneak into my house like a thief in the night.” He added, arching a brow at him, enjoying the startled look that passed briefly over his sons’ face.

“But you’re right.” He said, leaning forward slightly. “I know exactly what you are referring to and my answer is simple. Tauriel is quite valuable to me not only because she is like a daughter to me, she was a good captain of my patrols. I felt it was far more advantageous to bring her back than to try to replace her.” He stated, watching the play of emotions chase themselves within the depths of his sons’ eyes.

“That does not excuse the fact that you are keeping her a prisoner.” Legolas stated, feeling his anger twisting in his gut as he recognized his fathers’ defensive stance. Refusing to back down from his fathers’ narrowed gaze. “Why have you not returned her to the patrols then?”

“She needs time Legolas.” Thranduil said quietly as he folded his arms across his chest, his gaze remaining unchanged as he studied his son. “She has suffered much and needs to mourn among her own people.”

“You did not answer my question.” Legolas stated, his fingers flexing in his anger. “Why are you keeping her as a prisoner?”

“She is not a prisoner.” Thranduil sighed as he turned to pick up his wine goblet. “She has the same freedoms as anyone else.”

“Then I am taking her with me when I leave in the morning.” Legolas stated far more calmly than he felt.

“You seem so sure of yourself.” Thranduil said quietly, taking a long drink from the goblet. “I do not think she will take lightly that you have already abandoned her once. Now that she knows you have deceived her, do you really think she will be so willing to go with you?”

“Deceived her?” Legolas asked in shock, truly taken aback by the accusation. “I have never lied to her!” He stated as he collected himself quickly. “She knows I spoke the truth when I told her that I loved her!” He exclaimed, feeling his anger rising once more.

“Nothing happens within this realm that I do not know of it.” Thranduil stated as he advanced on his son. “I should have intervened when I first became aware of it. You are reckless ion nîn (my son)! You think I did not know of your intentions? How you lured her into your many trysts while you were supposed to be on patrols no less? You knew from the beginning such a union could never be allowed yet you continued to deceive her to believe otherwise.”

“I will marry her!” Legolas stated angrily. “You cannot stop me.”

“Oh but I can. You are bound by the same decree as am I.” Thranduil stated, his tone taking on that familiar clear tone of his position. “I have tolerated your many dalliances over the years as I wanted you to experience life. Yet I had hoped you would come to your senses and a suitable choice would attract your attention as I do not wish to burden you with an arranged marriage.”

“You have no right!” Legolas exclaimed as his father approached him. “Damn you!” He added to himself, hating the way his father always managed to remain aloof and seemingly untouched by everything around him.

“As your King I have every right.” Thranduil stated as he narrowed his eyes, returning the same defiant glare so clearly shining from his sons’ eyes. “I suggest you take care that I do not change my mind.”

Before he realized that he had even moved, Legolas felt the impact against his knuckles as he struck his father for the first time in his life. Reacting in both fear and anger, he turned on his heel and quickly left him standing there holding his face.

“My Lord, is everything alright?” Thalieth asked, watching as the prince strode purposefully out of the study. “Stop him!” He yelled as he turned to see the king holding his face as blood trickled freely between his fingers.

“No! Let him go.” Thranduil barked the order quickly. “Find Galion, tell him I need him.” He said as he straightened to his full height and walked calmly past him into the antechamber toward his private chambers.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“I thought I was the only one who preferred solitude during festivals.” Elvändéruil said quietly as he approached the solitary figure in the solarium.

“I actually love festivals. I’m just not feeling very festive at the moment.” Tauriel replied, smiling as she turned toward the familiar voice. “I merely sought refuge from the chaos for a while.”

“You know I’m always here for you.” He told her, taking her hands in his larger ones. “You have been so sad lately, I worry for you.” His silvery gray eyes softened as slight crinkles formed at the edges from his smile.

“Oh I’m not sad!” She insisted, squeezing his hands tightly. “It’s just that so many things seem to be happening so fast, I don’t even know what to think anymore.” She reluctantly admitted.

The youngest son of one of the kings’ council members Elvändéruil was his mother’s favorite and was given much more freedom to live a simpler life than his siblings. Although he was much older than herself, he had been one of her dearest friends during her youth, someone she could always rely on to be there to listen when she needed someone to talk to. It was not in the way of a lover, yet she loved him deeply as a friend and a confidant, he knew all of her secrets.

Smiling up at his concerned face, she wondered just when the rift between them happened. He was different than most Sindar and certainly unlike any of the nobles she knew of the kings’ court. She had always envied his long black tresses and the fact that he hated ornamental braids, always wearing it loose, to hang freely down his back and his soft caring eyes. There had been many elleth (elf maiden) that had sought his attentions, yet he chose to remain alone. In contrast to his strong masculine aura, there was a great gentleness about him. He had a unique ability to sincerely empathize and almost understand her feelings even in personal things that most ellyn (male elf) viewed as nothing more than elleth (Elf maiden) silliness endeared him to her.

“I’m sorry that I have not taken the time to seek you out until now.” Elvändéruil said quietly as he studied her. “I thought perhaps you needed time to deal with certain things in your own way. But you seem to have shut everyone out, even me.”

“Oh no! I could never do that to you!” She exclaimed as she raised up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. “I’m sorry I made you felt that way!” She told him as she pressed her cheek against his chest.

Smiling to himself as he caught sight of the slight figure standing in the edge of the shadows in the doorway, Elvändéruil wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. He knew she would not resist his embrace as it was given in comfort, seeking nothing from her save the spirit of their friendship. He had never favored her relationship with Legolas and had tried to dissuade her. Unfortunately she had become so enchanted by him, his warnings had fallen on deaf ears.

“Save a dance for me at the festival and I will forgive you.” He teased, taking her hand as she released him. “You do plan to attend don’t you?” He asked as he led her toward a nearby stone bench.

“I haven’t even thought about court.” Tauriel sighed as she leaned against him, appreciating the comfort of his embrace once again. “In the past I rarely attended the kings’ court during festivals because of my duties.” It wasn’t exactly true and she knew it. The king had always made sure she was free to attend yet she would volunteer to replace anyone who truly wished to attend.

“Tauriel.” He said softy as he took her chin in his hand, turning her face toward him. “You need time to heal from everything you have been through. For once in your life will you please just relax and let things happen as they are meant to.” He implored her as he studied her face.

“I don’t even know what I want anymore.” Tauriel said quietly, her voice trembling as she stared up at him. “Everything has just been too much.”

“Stop trying to over think everything.” He told her, kissing her forehead softly. “Just listen to your heart.”

Slipping silently into the deeper shadows, Legolas felt a deep pain in his heart as he sought the refuge of his private chambers. While there was a part of him that wanted more than anything to simply leave and get as far away from his fathers’ halls as possible, a larger part him knew he could not leave her, not again. The kings’ order that no one was to leave the fortress still stood and he knew that even if he managed to convince the guards to let him pass, his father would hear of it. Right now the last person he wanted to see much less talk to was his father.

“You are reckless ion nîn (my son)!” The truth of his fathers’ words stung deeply as he thought of his foolishness in using his position to gain the attentions of any elleth displaying interest in him. Yet only one had managed to steal his heart as her emerald eyes, her sultry smile and the sweet sound of her laughter had haunted his dreams.

Escaping into his rooms, he was filled with regret for his earlier actions in his fathers’ study. He had struck out at him in anger toward himself and it was unforgivable. All of his life his father had done nothing but show him love and respect. He had always been open with him when he questioned him, even though it pained him greatly, he had told him the truth about his mother and why she had abandoned them. 

Moving toward the hearth, he struggled with the torrent of emotions that swept over him as he set about the task of lighting the logs. Squatting down on the braided rug, he folded his legs in front of him as he watched the tiny flames grow as they began lapping at the bottom of the logs.

“You must not judge him too harshly. He was younger than you are now when he was forced upon a throne he did not want and the Thranduil I knew was gone, in his place stood a king.” Her words rang in his head as he thought of his meeting with the Lady Gilaiwë and for the first time he truly felt the weight of a crown he did not want in a life that was not his own. There was a part of him that understood that as his father had always held the obligation of duty above all else, including love.

Against his will the images of her in clinging to Elvändéruils’ neck, the gentle embrace as he kissed her forehead flashed through his mind, filling him once more with pain and the fear of losing her. He was well into adulthood and thoughts of his fathers’ threat to force him into a marriage he did not want was like a knife in his heart. No, he knew his love for Tauriel was real and he would not let him force him to a loveless marriage that would doom him to the same lonely life that his father had endured.

Slowly as his anger began to fade, his thoughts turned not to his fathers’ words but the subtle signs he had missed. Tauriel may no longer be a prisoner, he had no reason to doubt Träëliôrns’ word that it had been the case upon their return. Not only did he hold her prisoner, he had used the March Wardens to guard her, even going so far as to replace them with officers from the elite forces to shadow her every movement within the palace. The fact that no one had visited her with the exception of his father, even if he departed from her rooms in anger it created a nagging feeling that he was holding something back.

It was easy to see how his feelings for her could certainly have been blurred beyond a fatherly affection. Before the battle in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, before the dwarf, before he himself had abandoned her, she had always been accessible to him, easily within his reach should he desire her. His anger rose again with the knowledge that he had not deceived her, not entirely. He had not told her of the oath only that his father would not approve of a marriage between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!! As always, comments are welcome!
> 
> Teleri - The third and largest clan of the Eldar (Elves)  
> Tawarwaith - Those Sindar elves that began the Great Journey west after the Awakening but chose not to continue the journey across the Misty Mountains
> 
> NOTE: I do not subscribe to beta readers and apologize for any errors.


	9. Reflections of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Winter Solstice Festival fast approaches Tauriel rejects Legolas and yet searches for answers toward an uncertain future. Thranduil struggles with the past as he is forced to realize his love for Tauriel and for the son who loves her too. He knows that following his heart can lead to only one of them. The darkness facing the Woodland Realm can be more real than he thinks as enemies may be closer than he realizes.

Curling herself into the comfortable chair before the hearth, Tauriel held the small book tightly to her breast as she gazed unseeing into the flames dancing across the logs. Images, scattered and disconnected from one another flittered through her thoughts, memories she had tucked away long ago. Old memories yet new ones still fresh with new pain mingled amongst them, feelings that she still needed to sort out and find a place in her heart to put them. So many times she had relived that moment on Raven Hill, staring into Kili’s eyes as the light faded from them. How her life had changed since that moment, loss and emptiness had filled her heart. It was time to let him go, to somehow try to find a way to make peace within herself. He was gone and there was nothing that could change that.

Laying the book in her lap, her fingers easily found the gap in the pages where she had tucked the small piece of parchment and the fragile Länciföliûm, now dried, the tiny yellow blossoms faded to a light brown. There was now only a faint touch of the soft fragrance yet it still filled her senses as she held it close to her face. The memory was still vibrant in her thoughts as if it had been only yesterday that she had felt his strong comforting embrace as they rode through the forest that chilly morning.

Legolas, she still had feelings for him, they had been so much to each other for so long, his abandonment hurt deeply. In her heart she understood his pain yet she was still angry for his betrayal. Theirs was a love that could never be yet blamed herself as well because somewhere, deep in her heart she had known that from the beginning yet chose to ignore it.

“Why do I always want what I cannot have?” She asked herself silently as she closed her eyes, breathing in the soft fragrance of the Länciföliûm.

A soft knock on the door startled her from her reverie, she quickly tucked the flower back into its safe place between the pages of the book. Frowning at the late hour, she stared at the door for long moments, hoping whoever it was would leave her in peace.

“Come.” She reluctantly bade them to enter as the knock grew louder and more persistent.

“Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) She greeted him, laying the book aside as she rose quickly to face the Prince.

“Since when do you address me as such?” He asked quietly as he closed the door behind him.

“Things have changed between us.” She said as she tilted her head downward, staring at the braided rug in front of the settee, unsure of herself.

“Nothing has changed for me. I have missed you Tauriel.” He told her softly, his long strides clearing the distance between them quickly. “I have thought of you day and night.” His tone so soft, it was almost a whisper as he gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Swallowing against the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, she could only stare up at him. Her gaze flickered over the familiar features of his beautiful face, though he tried to smile, she could see the pain in the depths of his pale blue gray eyes where there had once only been love and laughter.

“You must not...” She choked past the growing lump in her throat.

“I must not what?” Legolas interrupted her, pulling her into his arms as she started to turn away from him. “All I have done these past months is think of you, of us. I love you Tauriel.”

“Legolas, stop!” Tauriel exclaimed as she wrenched herself free of his embrace and walked toward the hearth. “I cannot do this.” She said quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Why?!” He exclaimed as he moved toward her, clasping her hands tightly in his. “Nothing has changed.” He stated, struggling to keep his voice from trembling yet his eyes pleaded with her as they searched her face.

“What does it matter?” She stated more than asked, squeezing his hands as she searched his face, seeing nothing but the same pain that mirrored her own. “You knew the king could never allow you to pledge yourself to me.” 

“That does not matter.” Legolas told her, bringing her hands to his lips. “I cannot live a lie, I love you Tauriel. Please, I need you.”

“It’s all been a lie.” She told him softly, not trusting her voice as she pulled her hands free from his grasp. “It’s just been too much, I need to sort things out.” She said, turning away from him. “Even so, things cannot go back to the way they were between us.”

“What do you mean?!” Legolas exclaimed, taking her in his arms as he stepped up behind her. “We can leave here! We can go anywhere.” He pleaded with her as he buried his face in her hair.

“Legolas, please.” She said quietly, stiffening as he pulled her against him. “I would like to be alone now.”

Closing her eyes as he released her, Tauriel stood there in silence for long moments before she heard the door close behind him. Swallowing back the persistent lump in her throat as she turned back to the chair in front of the hearth, her eyes fell on the book. Hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks as she sank into its comforting embrace, her fingers moved caressingly over the engraved leather cover as she thought about the treasure hidden within its pages.

“I do not know what is real and what is not, everything hurts.” She thought sadly, turning away from the book to watch the flames in the hearth as she struggled with the conflict between her heart and her mind.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You seem awfully deep in thought tonight.” Galion ventured, watching the strange play of expressions chasing themselves across the kings’ face as he stared into the hearth.

“Yes.” Thranduil sighed heavily, turning to look at his friend briefly before turning back to the hearth. “Much to my regret, I feel that Legolas has left me no choice but to replace him as the patrol commander.”

“I take it he is still determined to leave?” Galion asked as he refilled their teacups.

“I know nothing of his plans.” Thranduil stated, a slight flash of anger passed across his face as he glanced quickly toward him. “He has been avoiding me.”

“The incident in your study...”

“Has nothing to do with it.” He interrupted him, shaking his head, it was part of it, but certainly not the whole of the matter. “I had already been considering it but I had not made up my mind. 

“Laurefindë brought it to my attention after the meeting this morning.” He continued after long moments, not wanting to talk about his sons’ outburst. “I agree with her recommendation but still I am reluctant to make changes until after the Winter Solstice.” He said, frowning into the dark liquid in his goblet. 

“I can think of any number of qualified officers.” Galion commented as he dipped a little more honey into his teacup.

“Tauriel has been asking to return to the patrols.” Thranduil said quietly as he pondered the dark liquid in his goblet. “I have not wanted her back out there. I am either a glutton for punishment or out of my mind.” He sighed as he lifted the goblet to his lips, taking a long drink. 

Thranduil may be foolish in his heart yet in the end Galion knew logic would get the better of him, especially in matters involving the governing of the realm. Unlike his natural instincts on the battle field where quick action meant the difference between life and death, he was more of a thinker than his father and not known for expressing hasty judgements. A quality some members of his council members found to be more than a bit disconcerting, particularly when they wanted something from him.

“What has changed your mind?” Galion asked quietly, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

“She needs to work though things in her own way.” He said quietly, his fingers absently toying with the stem of the goblet as he rested it on the arm of the chair. “I need to give her the time to do that.”

“You will not be able to keep avoiding her if she accepts the position.” Galion stated, frowning a little with concern.

“I am not avoiding her.” Thranduil stated defensively, rolling his eyes at him. “I know Legolas has been following her since his return and is with her as we speak.” He added as he brought the goblet to his lips, swallowing the last of it in one long drink.

“I do not wish to antagonize him any further.” He said quietly as he rose to his feet. “I will deal with this when the time comes. I believe I am ready to retire for the night.”

“Will you have your morning meal here or go to the dining hall?” Galion asked as he got up and headed for the tray on the table.

“I think I will go to the dining hall.” He replied absently, not willing to admit that he had been dining in his rooms to avoid Tauriel.

“Ben iest gîn.” (As you wish). Galion commented, watching the king turn away from him and make his way toward his bed chamber.

Reluctantly his thoughts turned to her, the feel of her body so close to his during their brief ride into the forest. The soft scent of her mingled with the lavender and lilac as he nuzzled close to her. A deep frown creased his brow as he laid his robes over the arm of the settee at the foot of his bed. She was the most vexing elleth (elf maiden) he had ever known, the fire within her that attracted him to her was unpredictable.

“Yes, and you’re going to get burned if you keep stoking it.” Aldalómës’ words haunted him as he slipped into the comfort of his bed.

Clasping his hands behind his head as he stretched out beneath the covers, he willed his body to relax as he felt his desire for her building within him. Staring unseeing at the polished oak of the canopy above, his thoughts turned toward his son. He knew he should have put an end to their relationship as soon as he became aware that it had gone beyond more than infatuation. It would have been easy enough to separate them yet it would have raised questions he was not prepared to answer, even to himself.

Unaware of the smile that curled his lips, he remembered how upset she had been when Legolas joined the patrols. Both of them so young, squabbling like siblings, each vying for his attentions in their own way until Legolas started going on assignments that would take him farther from the palace and keep him away longer. They were only fleeting thoughts, things he did not wish to dwell on at the time yet now he wondered if his son had done so because his feelings had changed toward her.

Sighing deeply, he frowned as he questioned himself and when his own feelings toward her had changed. She had grown up so quickly it seemed to him, when he found himself noticing just how beautiful she had become, the way her gowns clung seductively to her feminine curves, the way she would look at him sometimes. He remembered, the feelings she had incited within him as she shamelessly flirted with him. She had only laughed it off when he questioned her about it, claiming that she was only practicing on him. Now he was not so sure, recalling that was also when she had become so adamant about wanting to join the patrols. It was then that he saw the fire in her as she argued with him relentlessly over his refusals to sign the requests.

Was he protecting the one he viewed as his daughter or an elleth (elf maiden) he had fallen in love with? Shaken as the question seemed to answer itself, he thought again of his son. There had already been so much that had passed between them as Legolas struggled to find himself in a world he had no control over. It was a world he knew all too well and would have protected him from it if he could. Guilt now twisted painfully in his gut as he thought of his conversation with Garävegión. Was he being selfish, catering to his own purposes that he only now considered abolishing the hereditary oath to the crown?

The sleepless night had brought him no answers as he threw the covers back and pushed himself up from the bed. Making his way to his bathing chamber, he knew it was not an answer, only the disheartening realization that he had fallen in love with her. Pausing to look at his reflection in the polished silvered glass, he knew had it been anyone other than his son who shared the same feelings, he would have fought for her attentions.

“You are a fool, this cannot lead to anything good.” Again Aldalómës’ words chided him in his mind as he turned away from the reflection. If he followed his heart, he would lose his son if he had not already done so.

Dismissing Galion apologetically as he entered with his usual prattle, Thranduil sighed heavily. Normally he found humor in his friends’ incessant chatter but he was simply not in the mood for it this morning. Dressing himself quickly yet with care, he frowned at his reflection before shaking himself into the present. Pulling on the regal air of his position as if it were a protective cloak, he quickly departed his private chambers to make his way toward the dining hall.

Greeted by the more subdued hum of morning conversations, he politely nodded and smiled his greetings as he strode purposefully toward the dais. Taking his seat between Lord Garävegión and Lady Laurefindë, noting the absence of his son, his gaze quickly scanned the myriad of faces in the room for any sign of her.

Schooling his expression quickly only from years of experience, he smiled warmly as he turned to Lady Laurefindë. Meeting her knowing gaze evenly, he hid himself from her as she filled his teacup. A Sindar and Iathrim like himself, she was tall with silvery golden hair and soft blue eyes that seemed as deep as the sea itself. The wife of his fathers’ former council member, he had known her all his life and found it more than unsettling that she could read him so easily. It was impossible to hide the tension between himself and his son, a situation he was loath to have been made public as word had spread quickly of their confrontation in his study.

“The prince departed with the patrols early this morning.” She told him, her tone much quieter once their morning pleasantries had been exchanged and the king had been served his meal.

“I cannot say it does not surprise me.” Thranduil sighed as he spread the honey liberally over a slice of bread. “He is known for devising numerous ways of staying away from the palace.” He added, decidedly not wanting to openly admit that it was he himself that his son was avoiding.

“Things do have a way of working themselves out.” She commented, her gaze searching his face as she smiled at him. “Children will always see the world differently than their parents.” She added reassuringly, noting his eyes glance once more toward spacious seating area below them.

“Would that we could always protect them from that which has created those differences.” He said more to himself than as a reply to her observations. Most of the young elves crowding the dining hall knew only what they read in books about battles and the evils that threatened their world.

Skillfully directing their conversation to the more mundane topic of various palace activities, she watched him in her motherly way. Slowly, in the years following the war that claimed the lives of his father and her husband, she had withdrawn from him. There were times such as now when she regretted having done so. After the fall of Doriath she had travelled with Oropher and her husband to the east and had known Thranduil as a child. There had once been hope in her heart that he would have wed her daughter Laûrläéthëe, but it was not to be as her daughters’ calling was elsewhere.

Listening quietly as she turned their conversation toward the upcoming Winter Solstice Festival, his thoughts turned to Tauriel. She had continuously volunteered to go out on patrols rather than join the festivities, yet he said nothing to her, letting her think he had not noticed. He was happy that Laûrläéthëe had decided to attend this year, it had been too long since she had graced his halls for any reason. Absently running the names through his mind that he had listed on the requests he had signed a fortnight ago for Galion, he was glad to see that there were quite a few returning for the festivities this year. Regardless of the tension between them, he was happy that his own son would also be in attendance. The Winter Solstice marked the New Year for the elves, in his heart he prayed this was a good sign.

Pretending to absently watch the milling elves in the main dining area, Lord Garävegión watched as Thranduil rose from his seat. Smiling as he returned the nod as he purposefully strode across the dais toward the door, he waited a few moments before meeting Lady Laurefindës’ gaze briefly.

“Would you care to join me for tea?” She asked, pausing as she made her way toward the door herself.

“I would be delighted.” He chuckled as he laid the napkin over his plate and rose from her chair.

Clasping his hands loosely behind his back, he smiled and nodded as she talked of the upcoming festival. The halls were pretty much empty as they made their way toward her private chambers, as most were either still in the dining hall or already about their daily tasks. Still, there was no telling how many or whose ears may be listening, she switched the topic to her daughter as they continued toward the lower levels of the palace.

“I will bring your tea shortly hiril vuin.” (My lady) Tälileá informed her with a respectful nod as Laurefindë closed the door behind them. “Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) She nodded toward Garävegión before turning away from them to check on the tea.

“We can talk in the parlor.” Laurefindë said quietly, waving her hand toward the door on the other side of her public sitting room. “Both Tälileá and Táëglÿn will be leaving shortly.” She told him as they entered the parlor. “Elvändéruil is out with the patrols this morning, I do not expect to see him until later this evening.” She continued as they made themselves comfortable at the small table.

“I notice that he seems to be quite a regular among the patrols lately.” Garävegión commented as he shifted himself to find a comfortable position in the overly padded chair.

“Yes.” Laurefindë smiled yet she sighed thoughtfully. “For as much as he pretends not to care for his duties and responsibilities, his actions tell a different story. He has been going out there every day for the past few months. I worry for him, but then I worry for all of them.”

“As do I.” Garävegión sighed yet smiled as Tälileá entered with the tea tray.

“I do like Alythiyiá’s apple spiced tea but I prefer the much stronger flavor of the cinnamon spiced hazel nut.” Laurefindë commented as Tälileá set out their cups and filled them.

“I will be fine Tälileá.” She said softly, yet effectively silencing the servant as she started to speak. “Go on now. Enjoy your morning.”

“Ben iest gîn, hiril vuin.” (As you wish, My Lady) Tälileá replied with a smile as she nodded and quickly departed the room.

“Do you think Thranduil is serious about the oath?” She asked as she reached for the honey pot.

“You know him as well if not better than I do.” He stated, pushing the small pot closer to her. “Just the fact that he mentioned it is enough to know that it is something he has been thinking of for who knows how long.”

“Well, if history is anything to go by it has been lurking around in his head for quite some time.” Laurefindë stated as she briskly stirred the honey into her tea. “It depends on when he actually realized he was in love with her that it voiced itself to him.”

“You really think he’s in love with her?!” He exclaimed as he stared at her.

“Oh for Eru’s (God’s) sake Garävegión! Look at him, he’s a mess!” She stated, shaking her head at him. “This business with Legolas only makes everything more complicated.”

“In truth.” He sighed heavily as he wrapped his slender fingers around the teacup. “As much as he hoped Legolas would return, I do agree with you. But there are other things we must be more watchful of. As much as we hate to admit it, Thranduil does have enemies within his court who will fight against abolishing the hereditary oath.”

“We will need to keep an eye on Lord Tirithiáël’s sons.” She stated thoughtfully. “Lord Oviëdó in particular.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all of those who are reading this! Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter posted. Sometimes my muse goes silent or takes me in a direction I don't want the story to go.


	10. Truths & Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange encounters on patrol raise concerns that there are more than shelob (spiders) that haunt the forest around the palace. Legolas expresses to Tauriel his acceptance that things have changed, yet still hopes to regain her love. Tauriel remains tormented as she struggles to find resolution within herself about her love for Thranduil.

“Check yourselves and gather your arrows.” Lárasarnë stated as he strode briskly toward a small group of the morning patrol. “We can break here.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, his tone softer as he reached Aûraë.

“I’m fine.” She replied absently rubbing her shoulder. “Since when do shelob (spiders) set traps?”

“They don’t.” Dûrláën said angrily as he approached them. “Those tracks back there were not animal either.”

“You think they’re orcs?” Gäérrÿk asked, watching Lárasarnë as he stepped closer to them.

“I think they were made to look like orc.” Lárasarnë replied, meeting his gaze. “Orcs rarely walk single file. There’s something or someone else out here.”

“What is it?” Eréndriël asked, her eyes filled with concern as Gäérrÿk walked back toward her.

“We’re not alone out here, watch yourself.” He told her as he took the fist full of arrows from her, shoving them back into his quiver.

“That goes for you to fool.” She retorted, frowning at him as they turned away from the group to find a comfortable place to take their break. “That was a crazy stunt you pulled back there.” She complained, her eyes narrowing at him.

“He could have picked any group, why this one?” He grumbled as plopped down beside her and reached in his pack for a couple of the small bread rolls they brought with them.

“Elvändéruil.” She laughed softly, reaching for her water flask.

“What?” He asked, confusion radiating from his eyes as he handed her one of the rolls.

“I swear, you ellyn (male elf) pay attention to nothing.” Eréndriël stated, the laughter in her eyes belied the scorn in her tone. "Legolas knows he’s been visiting Tauriel. He’s been to her rooms for the last three nights.”

“They have been friends forever.” Gäérrÿk said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “Only you elleth’s (elf maiden) make something out of nothing with all your silly romantic ideas.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.” She laughed, shoving him playfully with her shoulder.

“Your mind is divided.” Elvändéruil said quietly as he approached the prince, some distance away from the others. “You could have been seriously injured or worse gotten yourself killed back there.” He added, his silvery gray eyes clashing with the pale blue of the prince.

“I saw it.” Legolas stated, his eyes narrowing only slightly as he watched him lower himself onto the fallen tree beside him.

“That is not the point.” He said, refusing to be intimidated by the anger he saw in his gaze. “There were already three archers on it. You endangered not only yourself but them.”

“Are you questioning my skills?” Legolas stated more than asked as he turned slightly to face him.

“No.” Elvändéruil replied, schooling his expression to one of indifference. “Only your state of mind.”

“What do you know of my state of mind?” Legolas retorted, feeling the small muscle in his cheek begin to twitch as he glared at him.

“I know that stalking her in dark tunnels will get you nowhere.” He said as he turned away from him to watch the others.

“And what about you?” The prince asked more sharply than he would have preferred. He was aware of Elvändéruils’ disapproval of the relationship between himself and Tauriel.

“I am as I have always been.” He stated as he rose to his feet. “Regardless of what you may think, we are only friends. If you truly intend to win her affections, stop taking the past for granted.”

“What?!” Legolas blurted as he watched him walk away.

“Let’s move.” Lárasarnë ordered, shaking his head in frustration as he turned his gaze away from the prince and the lord. “Träëliôrn you’re on point. Ivósaar and Nînquië take the rear. Everybody else, spread out, stay low.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Is he in?” Tauriel demanded more than asked of the sentinel as she strode purposefully across the large foyer at the bottom of the stairs.

The words on the page in front of him blurred as Thranduil heard the sound of her voice just beyond the door of his public study. Recognizing the tone of her voice, he braced himself for the now unavoidable confrontation with her.

“Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) Thalieth addressed him quietly as he opened the door.

“Send her in.” He sighed, smiling almost apologetically at the longtime sentinel as he pushed himself up from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk.

“Tauriel.” He stated without looking toward her, his tone official and far calmer than he felt as he lowered himself onto the edge of the front of his desk. It presented him in a less intimidating light yet allowed him to maintain the necessary authority of his position.

“My Lord.” She addressed him formally, steeling herself as he smiled softly toward her.

“Damn you!” Her mind screamed at him as she watched his eyes flicker over her quickly before meeting her gaze evenly. She felt her anger rising, seeing his guarded expression of indifference, as if she meant nothing to him.

“Why are you ignoring my requests?” She asked, struggling to control her tone. “You promised you would consider it.”

“And I am.” Thranduil replied, unaware of the soft smile that curled the corners of his lips as he admired her beauty. He sensed the struggle within her as he watched her body stiffen, her eyes flashed like brightly polished emeralds. For a brief moment he saw the young elleth (elf maiden) who fought him so adamantly all those years ago for the same reason. The beautiful, fiery spirit that had secretly stolen his heart without him even realizing it. 

“When!” She exclaimed as she clenched her hands into fists, her eyes narrowing as her chin lifted slightly in defiance. “I am suffocating within these walls!”

“You need to be patient. Have I ever broken a promise to you?” He asked quietly as he rose and moved toward her.

Stepping back slightly she felt the cushion of the chair against her legs as he stopped in front of her. Frozen in place as he took her hands in his larger ones, the tips of his fingers traced teasing patterns over her palms, sending shivers through her entire body. It felt as if the world around her shifted and there was only the two of them as she stared up into his face. The brief look of sadness flickered through his eyes so quickly, she wondered if it had been nothing more than her imagination.

“No.” She said quietly, not trusting her voice, she squeezed his hands tightly to make him stop, feeling the warmth from them.

“Don’t so this to me!” Her mind begged him silently as she continued to stare up at him.

“There are things I need to consider first.” Thranduil stated, releasing her hands as he regained control over himself.

“Like what?” She could not resist asking as he turned away from her. Her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “My service should speak for itself.”

“Yes, and I have considered it.” Thranduil commented thoughtfully, lowering himself back onto the edge of his desk. “But I also need to consider your state of mind.” He added as he clasped his hands loosely in front of him.

“My state of mind?! How dare you!” Tauriel blurted, her eyes widening as she stared at him in disbelief. “There is nothing wrong with my mind! It’s not as if I’m asking for reinstatement to my former position!” She stated, quickly collecting herself as she noted the soft smile on his lips.

“You have already fled once.” He stated calmly, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “How can I be sure you will not do it again?” He knew he was taunting her yet it was necessary to get her to drop her guard and speak her true feelings.

“You banished me remember!” Tauriel exclaimed angrily as she stepped closer to him, wanting desperately to slap the smirk off his face. “Then you drag me back here for what?! Just to toy with me as if I were nothing more than one of your little courtesans! As if I have no feelings of my own!”

“Enough!” Thranduil snapped as he nearly leaped forward, trapping her within his embrace. “You know better than that!” He exclaimed, burying his face in the softness of her silken tresses as he hugged her tightly to him.

“Do I?” She asked quietly, tears stinging the backs of her eyes as she turned her face from the lips that sought her cheek.

“Tauriel...”

“Thranduil, don’t...” She said softly, her voice choked yet she made no move to pull away from him. “We both know that what we may want can never be.”

“You will not be reinstated to your former position.” Thranduil stated as he stepped quickly away from her, his tone far more calm than he felt. “I will inform you of my decision after the Winter Solstice and not before.”

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). She stated, her eyes unreadable as she stared at him for long moments before turning away from him. Resisting the urge to flee, she strode purposefully out of his study with no clear destination in mind other than anywhere away from him.

Frustrated, Thranduil went to the wine cupboard, collecting a carafe and a goblet he carried them with him as he sank heavily into one of the chairs in front of the hearth. Her words had hurt far more deeply than he would admit even to himself as he watched the flames lapping at the logs. Long buried yet never forgotten feelings of resentment burned with renewed anger in his heart toward his father as he stared into the dark liquid in the goblet. Old grudges and the foolish bitterness that were not his own still haunted him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Tracing her fingers absently over the soft leaves of the Dianthus plant, its tiny buds still hidden deep within the foliage, Tauriel let her thoughts wander to where they may. There had been so much happen in the past eight months that whatever she had once thought of as her normal life seemed ages ago. They had lost so many on the fields of Erebor in the Shadow of the Lonely Mountain. While she understood the dwarves desire to take back what was theirs, the cost had been great for all of them, the dwarves, the elves and the people of Lake Town.

Time had smoothed the jagged edges of some of her own pain yet changed her life beyond her ability to reconcile with who she had once been. Thranduil, her king and the only father figure she had ever known had banished her from him and that pain cut deeply into her fäë (soul) far more than she would ever admit to him. Yet his change of heart had reawakened those long ago feelings for him that she thought she had buried too deep to feel them.

The Woodland Realm, like Lórinand had always been Sindar ruled, something that was simply accepted by both the Silvan and Wood elves, she was unaware King Oropher had formalized it by decree. A sardonic smile curled her full lips as her train of thought flowed toward Legolas, who had been a brother to her. Her familiarity with him coupled with his whimsical view of life, his charm and wittiness had enchanted her. She knew now the love she felt for the son was not the same as what she felt for the father.

Her smile softened as she remembered the feelings incited within her as Thranduil teased her palms with his fingertips, flirting with her in an old elvish courting custom. Galion was right to accuse her of being selfish in her feelings as the cruelty of that oath was a pain that went both ways. She did not know if he loved her, only that he desired her and she wondered if that would be enough for her.

“Tauriel.” A familiar voice spoke softly next to her.

“Legolas!” She exclaimed, startled as she glanced quickly around the solarium.

“I have something for you.” He said quietly, a soft smile touching his lips as he brought his hands from behind him, presenting her with a bouquet of bright yellow Narcissus. “Will you walk with me?” He asked quietly, still smiling softly at her.

“They are beautiful.” She said quietly as she smiled back, pressing her face into them. “I’m sorry...”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He told her as he touched her elbow, gently guiding her with him as he turned toward the path that led deeper into the solarium. “I am not asking for your forgiveness, only the chance to make it up to you.”

Together they walked in silence just as they had done so many times in the forest, there had never been a need for words between them. Her thoughts turned to those times, when just his presence near her was comforting to her. The smile in his eyes, the soft curl of his lips, and the gentle touch of his caress had been more than enough for her, or was it.

“Do not give him hope where there is none.” The kings’ words haunted the back of her mind as she gazed down at the flowers. Narcissus, the first flowers before spring, meant to remind them of the forests rebirth and new beginnings.

Long ago Legolas had confided in her that in his heart he had felt the call to other lands, often talking of places he read about in the many books in the palace library. She knew deep down he loved his father and the forest, yet he rejected the duty and responsibility of the crown.

“I...” He began quietly, swallowing as he glanced toward her. “I did not understand and I acted childish. Can we talk in private?” He asked quietly as he stopped in front of one of the small rooms reserved for solitary meditation. “Please?” He implored, waving his hand toward the door.

“I need you to know that it was never my intention to mislead you.” He told her as he closed the door behind them, turning the small lock. 

“Legolas...”

“No.” He hushed her quickly, pressing a gentle finger to her lips when she started to speak. “I need to say this.” He continued as he took her hand and led her to a small stone bench, pulling her with him as he sat down.

“I know things have changed and I will accept it if that is truly your wish.” He told her, smiling weakly as he took the flowers from her and laid them on the floor so he could hold her hands. “I have had much time to think about things.” He said nervously, pausing as he squeezed her hands, his gaze flickering about the room as he gathered his thoughts.

“You are right. I knew my father could never allow it.” He said, his tone turning more serious as he looked down at their hands. “I did not think about it as he has taken lovers over the years and in my heart I prayed that he would fall in love with one of them and marry again, have more children and free me not only from that oath but the crown itself.”

“I have been so blind to so much.” She said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she searched his face, seeing only pain.

“It is not you. Part of me understands him.” He said, almost to himself, his gaze turning inward as he thought of his conversation with the Lady Gilaiwë. “He was as I am now when my grandfather fell at the Battle of Dagorlad. I know he was never the same after that.”

“I do not understand the cruel nature of the fates.” He told her as he brought her hands to his lips. “When my father told me about my mother and how they were forced into a marriage that neither of them wanted, I promised myself I would not live the lonely life that befell him. I will marry only for love. My children will know the love of both a father and a mother.”

“Yet it would seem that the fates have other plans for me.” He continued as he pulled her into his arms. “I will always love you Tauriel.” He whispered, nuzzling her ear softly. “I would have taken you with me to the ends of Arda (the world) if only to be with you.”

Capturing her mouth as she turned to look at him, he kissed her searchingly as he felt her lean against him. Clinging to her, his kiss turned hungry as she surrendered to him. Trembling at the feel of her in his arms again, he savored the taste her and breathed in the scent of her. Holding her tightly, he pulled her with him to the thick moss covered floor.

“Amin sinta lle, lle naa vanima?” (Do you know how beautiful you are?) He whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“What does it matter?” She asked herself as Thranduils’ beautiful face loomed in her thoughts, they were both bound by an ancient oath and sworn to another yet unknown elleth (elf maiden), never to be hers. The familiar feel of his soft kiss, his gentle touch awakened the deep longing within her, a need that had been building with each encounter she had with the king. Her heart ached for the pain she felt in Legolas, yet she felt it breaking for her own loss of the only one she knew she would ever love.

Gradually as she surrendered to him, he felt hope rising in his heart matched only by his growing desire for her. Cradling her in his arms, Legolas slowly worked loose the tiny buttons down the back of her gown as he kissed her face. Caressing her cheek softly, he comforted her as he tasted the slight saltiness of her unshed tears. Frowning inwardly as he trailed his kisses to the warmth of her neck, he sensed something different about her.

“I need you.” He groaned softly as he kissed her neck just below her ear. “I have dreamt of this moment for months, to hold you again.” He said, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “If you have found someone...”

“I have been with no one since you.” She said softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer. “Make love to me.” She whispered, teasing his lips with her own.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes as he pulled the gown from her shoulders, his lips capturing a tiny nipple as his hand cupped her breast, she had spoken the truth with her words yet lied in her heart. Struggling to clear her mind of any thoughts of Thranduil, she arched toward him as he gently suckled her breast. Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her gown down to her waist, the slight chill danced across her skin, causing her nipples to harden even more.

Lifting her hips as he pulled the gown free of her, reaching toward him as she watched him lay it over the bench. A slight smile curled her lips as she massaged the hard length of his swollen sex trapped in the tight silk of his leggings. Her smile broadened as she heard his breath catch as he froze for a moment, smiling down at her before quickly loosening the ties of his leggings.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift back to other times they had enjoyed each other’s bodies on cool nights beneath the starlight. Her fingers absently caressed his cheeks and shoulders as he cupped her full breasts, his warm moist tongue flickering teasingly over her nipples. Moaning softly, she licked her lips as he trailed his kisses lower over her taut stomach, his hands caressing her skin, building the tension within her. Trembling, her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he reached her sex.

Gasping softly as he slipped his tongue between the lips of her sex, drawing it upward over the tiny pearl at the apex, that sent shivers through her. Pressing tighter against him as she felt his lips encircle it, the tip of his tongue moved teasingly over the aching little muscle. It had been so long and her need was great as she rocked her hips against his gentle almost teasing attentions.

Smiling to himself, he moved upward, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss as he pressed deeply into the warm of her sex. Groaning as he held himself tightly against her, struggling to contain himself as he felt her muscles flexing against his sex. Burying his face in her neck as he slowly rocked against her in short thrusts, savoring the feel and taste of her as he built the tension between them.

Clinging to him as she felt him stiffen, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as his thrusts quickened. Pressing her cheek tightly against his as she felt the warmth of his release filling her, she blinked back the threat of tears at the frustration that remained within her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading!! Sorry, this chapter took a little longer to complete.


	11. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is more danger in the forest than shelob (spiders) and they walk on two legs. Looking forward to returning the forest patrols, Tauriel reunites with some of her friends only to learn a little more about the King’s past that intrigues her. More importantly an old friend forces her to face her own feelings about him.

“Since when do my wishes mean nothing!?” Thranduil exploded angrily, his silvery blonde tresses flying behind him as he turned to face the small golden haired elf seated in one of the chairs before the hearth in his private study. 

“Thranduil...”

“No! Not this time, nothing you say will stay my anger.” He cut her off, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to her. “This is inexcusable even from you!” He exclaimed as he leaned down, grasping the arms of the chair to steady himself. “This is not Lórinand Gilaiwë!”

The tension in the room was thick as Tóriôn stood silently at the corner of the hearth, praying he would not be noticed. He had witnessed lovers quarrels between these two many times over the long centuries they had known each other. Never had he seen Thranduil so angry that he actually trembled in his struggle to maintain his calm demeanor. Glancing quickly at Lady Gilaiwë, he swallowed with difficulty as he noted the flush of her skin as she lifted her chin in defiance, her dark blue gaze fixed on that of the Elvenking.

“If you would allow me to explain.” She stated quietly, refusing to shrink away from him. Yes, he was beyond angry with her and she understood that he had every right.

“I have been beside myself with worry.” Thranduil stated, pushing himself away from her to resume his pacing in front of the hearth. “You were supposed to be here yesterday. With no word from you I could only assume the worst.” He continued, his tone quieter but no less angry as he glanced between the two of them.

“I was delayed in Lake Town...”

“You had no cause to be there.” Thranduil stated, glaring at her as he folded his arms across his chest.

“But I did.” Gilaiwë insisted, shifting slightly in the chair as she glance at Tóriôn. “I thought it better that I go instead of Laûrläéthëe.”

“What are you talking about?!” He asked, his tone more demanding than inquisitive as he stared at her. “She arrived here safely over a week ago and said nothing of this to me.”

“Yes.” She sighed, nodding toward him. “And I have been in Lake Town since then. The death of Smaug has brought many from other lands flooding into Erebor.” She stated, meeting his gaze evenly. “There is a sickness there that is spreading. The human healers have not been able to contain it without succumbing to it themselves.”

“I am aware of this.” He told her, a deep frown forming on his brow. “I have sent nearly half of my healers there to assist them.”

“And they are doing everything they can.” She replied, her expression softening as her eyes implored him to understand. “Fládëithnôr has also sent additional healers. It took longer than I expected to get things taken care of. I had not realized how much time had passed.” She told him apologetically.

“I wish you would have informed me.” Thranduil stated as he sank heavily into the chair opposite her, some of his anger dissipating. “Captain Lárasarnë has reported the presence of animal traps being set within our border. They followed a trail of odd footprints as close as a few miles west of the palace grounds.”

“Why do you say odd?” She asked quietly, glancing at Tóriôn and then to the wine cupboard.

“These are humans and clearly not hunters.” Thranduil said, a deep frown forming on his brow. “Lárasarnë believes there were at least three of them. He thought at first they might have been lost, the prints were disorganized and moved in different directions. What concerns me is why they would attempt to trick us into thinking they were orcs.” He stated, rubbing his temples as he leaned back in the chair.

“Thank you.” Thranduil said, smiling weakly at Tóriôn as he handed him a goblet of wine.

“Our forces were significantly depleted in the battle on the plains of Erebor.” He sighed heavily as he gazed into the dark liquid. “Even so, I have ordered Aldalómë to split the lines and take at least a third of the forces to the west just beyond the Enchanted River.” He said before taking a long drink.

“I will not raise the alarm just yet.” He stated, turning his gaze toward the flames in the hearth. “The Festival of Winter Solstice begins tomorrow. There has been too much sadness already, short lived as it may be I will not have their joy disrupted needlessly.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“It will be good to have you back with the patrols.” Aûraë said quietly as Tauriel walked back toward the hearth. “You have been missed these past months.”

“Nothing has been confirmed yet.” Tauriel sighed as she sank back down onto the rug in front of her. “The king will not make a final decision until after the festival. I only know that it will not be the same.” She added, eyeing her friend suspiciously as she refilled their teacups.

“Things change, people change.” Aûraë commented absently as she picked up her teacup.

“What is it Aûraë?” Tauriel said, frowning from over her teacup. “You have been acting strange all evening.”

“So have you.” She replied, frowning back at her as she flipped her long dark tresses over her shoulder. “I miss my old friend.”

“What are you talking about?” Tauriel asked, studying her friend with earnest.

“We stayed away for so long because we thought you needed time.” Aûraë sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she met her friends gaze evenly. “We are all very sorry for what you have been through Tauriel.”

“But what?” She asked, her eyes narrowed slightly. It was not like Aûraë to speak in round about ways, it was one of the things she had always treasured about their friendship.

“Why can you not see what everyone else sees?” Aûraë stated more than asked, a slow smile pulling at her full lips.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” She asked when Tauriel stared at her in silence.

“I don’t know anymore.” Tauriel sighed as she turned her gaze toward the flames for a moment. “So much as passed between us. Things are not as they were before and I don’t know if it will ever be the same.” She said absently as she looked back at her friend.

“True.” Aûraë said quietly, pausing to sip her tea. “The battle in Erebor has changed much for many of us, but I think especially for you. But you cannot dwell on the past. You must think of yourself.”

“It’s all so confusing.” Tauriel said as she looked down into her teacup. “I have caused him so much pain already.”

“Pain is part of loving someone.” Aûraë chuckled softly. “Do you think everything is always so great between me and Lárasarnë?” She added, grinning as she shook her head at her. “If he had his way I would be locked away somewhere popping out elflings once a year!”

“Oh Eru (God)!” Tauriel exclaimed as she burst into laughter, nearly spilling her tea. “I can’t even see that!”

“That’s my point.” She said, her tone becoming more serious as she caught Tauriels’ gaze. “My parents may be of noble rank but I know it’s different for you.”

“I am no different than anyone else.” Tauriel stated, frowning deeply at the insinuation. Yet in her heart she knew that Aûraë was referring to the fact that not only had she grown up as a ward of the king, he had taken a special interest in her when she was but an elfling. “I have had to fight for everything!” She stated angrily, almost glaring at her.

“And it was not given to you, you earned that position as a captain!” Aûraë exclaimed, her eyes widening slightly. “You did it all on your own but it does not change the fact that he has fallen in love with you.”

“I’m not so sure that is what I want.” Tauriel sighed as she set the teacup on the ledge in front of the hearth. “Sometimes I think I would be happier if I could just go away where no one knew nothing about me.” She groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

“He would only find you and bring you back again.” Aûraë told her, a slight frown forming on her brow as she studied the startled expression on her friends face. “He is in love with you.” She added, watching the flood of emotions wash over her face.

“No.” Tauriel whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Who did you think I was talking about? Legolas?” Aûraë chuckled, unable to contain herself at the shocked expression.

“He only views me as he would a daughter and nothing more.” Tauriel breathed, her thoughts becoming blurred as images flooded her mind, her body grew hot as unwanted memories. The feel of his arms around her, the warmth of his lips on her neck, and the evening in his personal chambers. Yes, she knew but she had ignored it, buried it deep inside of herself.

“You really do not see it do you?” She said softly as she watched the realization suddenly dawn in her friends’ eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” Tauriel stated, shaking herself from the memories. “Nothing can ever come of it. He is bound by an oath to marry only a Sindar.”

“So is Legolas but who said anything about marriage?” Aûraë asked, arching a brow at her. “I told you, things change, people change. I think you are being foolish.”

“Foolish!?” Tauriel blurted, staring at her in disbelief. “There are others he finds his comfort from.” She added, collecting the teapot to refill their cups.

“You mean Galion and the Lady Gilaiwë?” Aûraë laughed, again finding her friends innocent ignorance quite humorous. “You are kidding me right?”

“I know only what I hear but I don’t concern myself with the Kings’ private life.” Tauriel stated, plopping the kettle down loudly onto the ledge.

“He and Galion have been lovers forever!” Aûraë laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Ever since the King was only a young Prince. It was actually Galion who introduced him to the feisty Lady Gilaiwë after King Oropher exiled him to Lórinand.”

“How do you know so much?” Tauriel demanded more than asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied her friend.

“You forget who I am related to.” Aûraë replied flippantly as she tilted her head slightly. “I do not know the whole story, they always stop talking about certain things when they realize I can hear them.” She laughed, pausing to take a sip of her tea. “Apparently King Oropher was furious when he discovered Prince Thranduil in bed with an ellyn (male elf), I do not know who. That is when he decided to arrange an appropriate marriage for him. It was my mothers’ sister Lady Laurefindë and Lord Garävegión who convinced him to send him there.”

“Legolas told me that he was forced into the marriage with his mother.” Tauriel said quietly, her thoughts returning to their encounter in the solarium.

“I understand it was very difficult for both of them.” Aûraë said thoughtfully, her gaze turning inward. “It is why he rejects it for Legolas. Love is more important than marriage.”

“And this Lady Gilaiwë?” Tauriel asked, not really sure she wanted to know anything more about her. She vaguely remembered the small golden haired elf from her brief stay in Lórinand.

“She is interesting.” Aûraë sighed, frowning slightly. “I have heard him refer to her as eshë nîn níëvé (notes). She has never married as there is some sort of understanding between them that if anything should happen to Legolas, they would marry only to produce a legitimate heir. So I guess you could say they have sort of prearranged their own marriage if it should come to that.”

Curled in the comfort of the chair before the hearth long after Aûraë had departed, her words tumbled over each other in Tauriels’ mind. She had never paid much attention to palace gossip, spending most of her time in the forest or with her friends among the forest patrol. She had noticed over the years that certain ones would uncomfortably stop talking or change the subject when she approached, she assumed they were talking about the royal family as it only got worse after they became aware of the relationship between herself and Legolas.

Staring into the fading embers she remembered Galions’ visit the day after she had gone riding in the forest with Thranduil. A soft smile touched her lips as she remembered him telling her that he had taken care of him since he was an elfling, even spoiling him. It was his comment that he had been alone for most of his life that brought the sting of tears to her eyes. Perhaps Galion had wanted to tell her more but she had been more than rude to him and she regretted it.

For the first time in months she intentionally recalled the comfort of his strong embrace as he held her so tightly against him during the ride back from Lórinand. The scent of him surrounding her as he wrapped her in the warmth of his winter cloak, the feel of his body curled against hers beneath it as they slept. He was so different during their ride on the forest, more relaxed yet his arms still held her so close that she felt every subtle move of his body as he guided Maeglir with ease. The memory of being back in his private chambers pained her, he had tried to honest with her and she had rejected him.

“Galion is right.” She thought angrily as she abruptly pushed herself up from the chair. “I am being selfish!” She chided herself, moving quickly toward the door. So angry with herself, she nearly slammed it behind her, she didn’t even notice as Côrnäith silently followed her as she made her way down to the lower levels of the palace.

She was still not permitted to leave the palace and often sought the solitude of the meditation room when her own rooms felt as if they were closing in on her. Filled with many tall potted ferns and other leafy foliage, the sound of the splashing water flowing over the carved ledge into the pool below was as close as she could get the natural grottos throughout the forest. Closing her eyes, she thought about their ride in the forest, remembering the sound of the waterfall in the pine grove. A soft smile touched her lips as she remembered him telling her of the one near his former home in Amon Lanc, trying to picture the king when he was still a young prince and not weighed down with the cruel burdens of the crown.

“Tauriel.”

Startled from her reverie, she gasped in surprise as she swung around toward the quiet voice behind her. A myriad of emotions washed over her as she looked at him, the soft glow of the lamp light catching in his silvery blonde hair. He wore no crown or circlet as he stood there, dressed in simple yet exquisitely tailored dark blue robes that accented his broad shoulders and slender waist. Only the slightest of smiles curled his lips as he looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, bringing back all of Aûraës’ earlier words.

“May I join you?” He asked quietly, his smile lifting a little as he watched her.

“Please.” She replied, not trusting her voice to say much more than that at the moment.

“We do not have to talk.” He said softly as he approached her. “I come here myself sometimes when I need to think.” He told her as gently lifted her hair back over her shoulders, purposefully brushing the warm skin of her neck with his fingertips as he did.

“But I need to talk.” She said softly, lowering her head slightly to avoid the soft expression on his face. “I need to apologize to you.”

“Whatever for?” He asked quickly, lifting her chin with a gentle finger, forcing her to look at him.

“There are so many things I don’t understand.” She said quietly as her gaze flickered over his beautiful face. “I have been so selfish.”

“No.” He chuckled softly as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “You owe me nothing of the sort.” He told her as he leaned down, kissing the top of her head.

“Yes I do. I have acted like a spoiled child.” She said, pressing her face tighter against the softness of his robes as she slipped her arms around him.

“Tauriel.” Thranduil said softly, pulling back slightly as he smiled softly at her. “None of that matters to me. You are like a daughter to me and I will always love you, no matter what.”

“Only as a daughter?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared up into his eyes. 

“Do you know what you are asking?” His voice was raspy as his throat constricted slightly. She felt him tremble slightly as his arms tightened around her, his gaze searched her own for long moments.

“Yes...”

Silenced as he pressed his lips to hers, Tauriel clung to him as she surrendered her mouth to him, melting against the length of his hard body. Trembling as he held her close, the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms comforting her as his kiss grew searching. Breathlessly she clung to him as she felt his fingers tangle themselves in her hair at the nape of her neck, pressing her mouth tighter against his.

“Tauriel.” He groaned as he released her mouth, pressing his cheek against hers as his arms tightened around her. “I need to know this is what you truly wish.” He whispered in her ear. “I will send for you tomorrow evening. I will understand if you do not come.”

Staring after him as he quickly released her and disappeared as silently as he had approached her, she felt a chill creep over her where she had felt the warmth if his body against hers. Hugging herself as she turned back toward the pool, never before had a kiss ignited such passion within her. Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of his strong arms around her, the scent of him still clung to her as her heart raced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!! 
> 
>  
> 
> Eshë nîn níëvé - my friend in the sense of a trusted ally who is also a lover yet not life mate


	12. Darkness Lurks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude between Thranduil and Tauriel only strengthens his desire for her and further complicates the struggle within him where Legolas is concerned. The palace is brimming with excitement as the Winter Solstice Festival has arrived, yet there is danger lurking in the shadows.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Thranduil grasped the thick oaken mantel above the hearth as he struggled to regain control himself. The soft fragrant aromas of lavender and lilac lingered on his robes yet it was the scent of her and the heat of her body that tormented him. It felt so right as she slipped easily into his arms, molding her body against his own. The softness of her full lips, the slight tremble he felt in them as she opened her mouth, surrendering to him had more than stirred his desire for her.

Shaking himself as he pushed himself away from the hearth, he strode purposefully toward his wine cupboard. Frowning into the goblet as he filled it, his frustration only deepened with his realization that everything had suddenly changed. He had only intended to steal the chance to be with her, to talk to her and make peace between them. Angering her in his study to get her drop her guard was something he disliked immensely. Having known her for her entire life, he knew exactly how far to push her to ignite the fire within her, yet he was completely unprepared for a fire that burn with such passion.

Walking back toward the hearth, he sank heavily into his favorite chair as his thoughts turned to Legolas. There was a part of him that knew he was struggling to justify himself, nevertheless he had not allowed himself to acknowledge his feelings for Tauriel until he thought he had lost them both. Gazing into the flames, he found his mind and heart divided. Now that he had opened his heart to her, could he close it again even for his son. The guards had kept him informed of his sons’ movements within the palace since he was so determined to constantly shadow her when he was not making an annoyance of himself with the forest patrol. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with his son.

Taking a long drink from the goblet, he grew more frustrated. Captain Lárasarnë had privately confided in him over his concerns for the tension between his son and Lord Elvändéruil. It was clear that his son was jealous of the relationship between Tauriel and the young lord, making his choice even more difficult. He would not tolerate having his son calling into question decisions he made when it came to Tauriel. In many ways Thranduil credited himself for her stubbornness as he had never shown her any preference, rather he pushed her to challenge him because he knew she had it in her to be better than she thought she was.

Banishing her had been the most difficult decision he had ever had to make, one that had hurt far more deeply than he cared to admit. The only justification presented to the council had been that she had already departed the palace and was unaware of his order therefore should not have been held accountable for having disobeyed him. Whether he wanted a confrontation with his son or not, he now realized that it was inevitable. The decision to abolish the hereditary oath was in truth personal and he could not deny it, regardless of the fact that his son had abandoned the realm, leaving him little choice. Still, there was the fact that the line of succession to the throne was weak and he could not bring himself to advocate an arranged marriage for his son or himself.

Tipping the goblet to his lips, he frowned to find it empty. Sighing heavily, he sat it on the table by the chair and pushed himself to his feet and made his way to his bed chamber. The festivities for Winter Solstice were set to begin at midday and would run well into the night. He would be expected to be in attendance for the greater portion of the evening, making it a very long day indeed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You seem rather excited this morning.” Nînquië commented, scooting over a bit as Tauriel took the seat beside her in the dining hall for the morning meal.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tauriel shrugged, her gaze flickered briefly toward Aûraë as she made herself comfortable.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Nînquië rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’s because you rarely attend the festivals anymore. Not to mention your glum mood last night.”

Lowering her head slightly as her friends chattered excitedly about the festivities planned for the day, Aûraë hid behind her thick lashes as she looked toward the dais. Smiling to herself as she watched the kings’ gaze move over the crowded room, noting that his attention lingered for long moments on their table.

“Has everyone decided on what they’re wearing yet?” Ilÿraná asked excitedly, her soft green eyes sparkling as she reached for the pot of honey.

“I never know until I walk out of my rooms!” Aûraë laughed, reaching for her teacup.

“She changes her mind at least a hundred times.” Lárasarnë complained as he approached their table.

“I do not!” She exclaimed, feigning a hurt expression that was belied by the laughter that nearly radiated from her pale blue gray eyes.

“I think we’ll find another table.” Rielassë commented, elbowing Lárasarnë jokingly. “They’ll drive us crazy with their silliness!” He said, rolling his eyes as he smiled at Nînquië who looked demurely down at her plate to hide her blush.

Lárasarnë smiled and winked at Aûraë as he followed Rielassë to a nearby table where Ivósaar and Träëliôrn were seated. He really didn’t mind not sharing the morning meal with her, it was their day as elleth’s (elf maiden) seemed to live for these events with all their primping and fussing just getting ready.

Stealing a glance toward the dais as the ellyn’s (male elf) interrupted their conversation, Tauriel smiled as her gaze met his for only a few moments but it was enough. Her heart sped up slightly as she remembered their brief encounter in the mediation room last night. She felt her face heat with her blush as she turned to find herself staring into Aûraës’ knowing gaze, a soft smile curled the corners of her lips.

“I definitely think green is your color.” Aûraë said thoughtfully, her smile lighting up her face as she met Tauriels’ gaze. “Actually I think forest green would be the best choice. It will bring out your eyes and green always goes well with red hair.”

“Is that why you always wear blue?” Tauriel laughed, her eyes dancing as she stared at her friend.

“Of course!” Aûraë exclaimed feigning shock as she widened her eyes at her. “I usually wear dark blue to be precise.” She laughed, tossing her ebony tresses back over her shoulder. “The lighter colors get washed out with my dark hair and they do nothing to bring out these pale eyes.” She pouted, then broke out in laughter.

Clearing his throat to keep from chuckling at the group of elleth’s (elf maiden), Thranduil only briefly met his sons’ gaze as he turned his attention to other tables throughout the dining hall. Normally the most subdued meal of the day, he could feel the energy flowing throughout the room. It was good to hear the sound of laughter and feel the excitement after everything they had all been through this past year.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” He commented quietly to the young kitchen helper as he carefully laid his napkin over his teacup, smiling as she made her way along the rest of the table. He was finished, merely enjoying the atmosphere of the room, waiting for the signal from Garävegión and Laurefindë that they were ready to depart. The next official council meeting was not for another two days, but there were things he needed to discuss and clarify with them before then.

“I take it you’re ready.” Garävegión commented, arching a thin brow as he turned toward him.

“Quite.” Thranduil sighed as he pushed his chair back from the table and turned to Laurefindë. “Ready?” He asked quietly, smiling as he grasped the back of her chair.

“I thought you would never ask.” She chuckled, rising to her feet as Thranduil pulled the chair out for her. “I would rather get this out of the way so we can enjoy the festivities.”

“Any word from Aldalómë?” Thranduil asked, turning toward Garävegión as they fell in step with each other.

“Nothing new.” He shook his head as he clasped his hands loosely behind his back. “They are all in place and agree with Captain Lárasarnë. The footprints are definitely human but he doesn’t believe they were lost or even disorganized but he is still not sure whether they pose a threat to us or not.”

“I had hoped to have only a few patrols out during the festival.” Thranduil sighed heavily, frowning as they strolled through the halls toward his private study.

“Maybe that’s what they were hoping for.” Laurefindë commented thoughtfully as she glanced up at Thranduil. “They just didn’t expect us to find their traps. How many have been located?” She asked, turning her attention to Garävegión.

“Only the three Captain Lárasarnë and his patrol found.” He stated, a deep frown forming on his brow. “It’s not so much how many since they were crudely made, it’s how close they are to the palace grounds that is most disturbing.”

“Who did Aldalómë take with him when he split the forces?” Thranduil asked as they descended the stairs into his private area of the palace.  
“I believe it was Macilvoronhûr and Eluandúnië.” Garävegión replied as they followed the king into his private study, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Good choices.” Thranduil said out loud but more to himself as he walked behind his desk. “How do we look at the eastern edge?” He asked, glancing up at Laurefindë as he seated himself in his chair.

“As long as we keep the Forest River guarded I think we’ll be fine.” She replied, choosing the chair closest to the hearth. “If you want to remove troops, I suggest we leave at least one at the river and one near the Half Barrel Inn.” She said as she adjusted herself comfortably. "There’s been reports of unsavory ilk hanging about. They’re not so much interested in the lower region near the Mirkwood Mountains because of the shelob (spiders), but there’s clear passage through the realm if they go up river.”

“Aldalómë has set his command post at the Vale of the Forked Pass.” Garävegión as he sank down in the chair closest to Thranduils’ desk. “The other two have set up outposts to the north and south of him.”

“I hope we are making something out of nothing, but it is better to be prepared.” Thranduil sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Now for other matters.” He said, turning toward Laurefindë. “I know it has been discussed amongst the council but I want to know if you have any feelings on what direction the council might sway on abandoning the hereditary oath.”

“You know you can just abolish it without the council.” She said, meeting his gaze evenly.

“Yes.” He said quietly, a slight smile forming on his lips as he arch a brow at her. “Things tend to work better if I have the support of the council.”

“Support is not unanimous but the majority will support it.” She replied, with a shrug. “The only hold outs are Tirithiáël and Thalión.”

“I have decided to wait until Nost-na-Lothion (Spring Festival) to officially present it before the council.” Thranduil sighed heavily, the glances shared between them were not lost on him.

“Why wait?” Laurefindë could not resist asking as she frowned at him.

“Because I know how my son thinks.” He sighed, looking up at ceiling as if he were searching for the right words. “Right now that oath gives Tauriel control which is how I want it.”

“I am not understanding.” Garävegión sighed, shaking his head as he glanced back and forth between the two of them, the confusion clearly written on his face.

“They are bound, she is not.” Laurefindë chuckled, arching a brow at him. “It makes them both equal to her and puts the choice in her hands.” She added as Garävegión just stared at her.

“Okay, I see.” He laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back in the chair. “You will have to forgive me. It has been a very long time since I had any interest in courtly games much less played them.”

“However.” Thranduil chuckled at his friend. “I do have one other matter that involves Tauriel as well. I do not need the approval of the council nor do I care about their feelings on the matter of replacing Legolas as Commander of the Patrol. I will be giving the position to her.” He stated, his tone becoming more serious as he watched Garävegión.

“I do not oppose the appointment.” He stated, although cautiously as he frowned at Thranduil. “If anyone should question it, what is the reasoning?” He asked.

“My son has been bitten by the wanderlust.” Thranduil sighed heavily, his gaze taking on an inward expression of contemplation. “Whatever decision she makes will determine his actions. So again, I share my thoughts with you so you will understand. If her choice is in his favor, then nothing changes. If not, then I wish for his decision to depart from me to be based on that and not any decision I make.”

“You know he will still blame you.” Garävegión stated, sadness creeping into his usually sparkling pale blue eyes.

"Yes." Thranduil said quietly, already feeling the ache in his heart.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You idiots!” The tall dark haired elf hissed as he entered the room at the end of the hall at the Half Barrel Inn. His dark blue eyes glared angrily at the two men seated at the small table by the window. “Your traps have done nothing but alert the King of your presence.”

“Yes and they have served their purpose.” Ardara replied, even as he shrank back from the anger so clearly visible in the elf’s face. “Look around you, the King has withdrawn most of his forces and sent them west.”

“With people pouring into Erebor most of the elven forces were concentrated here.” Donagh stated, eyeing the elf as he lowered his tall frame into the remaining empty chair at the table.

“Yes but he is not a fool.” The elf said quietly, a deep frown forming on his otherwise smooth brow. “Neither is his Chief March Warden. It will not take them long to figure out there is no threat and he will recall his forces closer to the palace.”

“Your Winter Solstice has already begun aye?” Ardara asked as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Your task is not a simple one and the danger should not be taken lightly.” The elf stated as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as well. “The Sindar blood line to the throne must not be broken nor shall it be tainted.”

“You may think us to be fools. We are not ignorant of the wrath of King Thranduil.” Ardara stated angrily, his eyes narrowing as he grew weary of the elf’s riddles. “It is a dangerous game you play. You have had centuries to remove him from the throne...”

“That is not the purpose of your task.” The elf interrupted him. “We do not want him removed from the throne. It is only his decision to allow his only heir to marry outside of the rightful line to the throne that we oppose. The king is much loved by the people of the Woodland Realm and his political reach goes far beyond our borders.”

“And you think killing one she-elf will change his mind?” Ardara stated more than asked as he arched a bushy brow at the elf.

“She is not to be harmed.” The elf told him, his tone threatening as he leaned toward him. “We have waited long for a weakness that can be used against him. The she-elf you seek is the key to forcing his hand toward accepting the betrothal of his son to a Sindar of our choosing.”

“What makes this one so special to him?” Donagh asked, leaning forward. “If he is so desperate to get his son married off, surly there are others.

“No.” The elf sighed heavily, shaking his head as he turned toward the other man. “It is not his desperation that is his weakness. Unfortunately our king still believes in love. The prince is already in love with her and the king loves her as a daughter.”

“Surly then she would be under his protection?” Ardara stated more than asked. “Perhaps even kept inside that fortress of his. How do we get to her?” He asked, arching a brow at the elf.

“Elves are not like humans.” The elf stated, a sardonic smile curling his lips. “Both are well trained and willing to fight alongside one another in battle to the death if necessary. This one has a will of her own and has already served the king as a captain in his forest patrol for many years. In three days she will rejoin the forest patrols as their commander. Capturing her will not be easy, her fighting skills are of the highest among the patrols.” He continued, the sardonic smile twisting to a smirk as he watched the two men.

“This is why your task is not simple and you must be cautious.” The elf continued after a long silence between them. “The depth of the kings’ love for his son is great and he will do anything to keep him near. That is why you will take her to the caves in the eastern end of the Mirkwood Mountains until we send for her.”

“The Mirkwood Mountains are crawling with those damned spiders.” Ardara spat angrily as he pushed himself up from the table. “You ask much with only a small reward for our troubles.”

“He is going to want proof that she lives. How do we give him that without risking ourselves?” Donagh asked, narrowing his eyes at the elf as his own anger rose from deep in his gut.

“Leave that to us.” The elf stated as he rose to his feet and walked toward the door. “I will speak to you again in three days.”

“I don’t like this.” Ardara stated, turning toward his companion after the elf had left them. “The sickness in Lake Town isn’t getting any better not to mention that it’s crawling with Mirkwood elves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading!! This story has been really fun to write and I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am!


	13. Conspiracies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conspiracies abound within the Woodland Realm. Some for power, others for love. The choice is made and stage is now set, for Thranduil and Tauriel there is no turning back. But what of Legolas?

The hour had grown late, many of the married couples and most of the older elves had long since departed the festivities, leaving the merriment to the younger ones. Perched comfortably at the end of the long table on the dais, Gilaiwë enjoyed the perfect view of the grand ballroom. A sly smile touched her lips as she caught sight of the young prince standing in the far corner near the minstrels. Although his expression was similar to the guarded indifference often worn by his father, it was obvious at least to her that he had not yet mastered the art of concealing his heart.

Glancing in the direction of his intense gaze, her smile grew as she watched Lord Elvändéruil bow low before the beautiful young fiery haired former captain of the forest patrol. Always the gentleman, she watched as he guided her out onto the floor, maintaining the respectable distance between them as she smiled up at him. She definitely seemed more relaxed, the deep folds of her forest green gown flowing around her as they moved with the music.

Sipping her wine sparingly she also felt the change in the atmosphere since Thranduil had retired for the evening. Part of her longed for the quiet serenity of her beloved Lórinand as she sensed an undercurrent and she was not quite sure yet if it threatened the Woodland Realm or Thranduil himself. The feeling heightened as she watched the young courtiers as they moved about like chess pieces, each one unaware that they were merely pawns in a much larger scheme contrived by power hungry older nobles.

“What wickedness are you plotting in that beautiful head of yours?” Tóriôn chuckled, slipping into the seat next to her as he continued to watch the small group of ellyn (male elf) nobles near the prince.

“What have you heard?” She asked as she continued to watch the dancers, ignoring his teasing.

“Galion confirmed the rumors.” Tóriôn said quietly, schooling his expression as he turned his attention toward the prince. “Thranduil fully intends to abandon the hereditary oath, much to the dismay of certain nobles.”

“So.” Gilaiwë sighed softly, her slender fingers toying with the stem of her wine glass. “He has finally admitted to himself that he is in love with her.”

A playful smile touching her lips as she remembered how adamantly he denied it when he came to Lórinand to retrieve her. Part of her was a bit jealous yet she had no desire to bind herself to the throne of the Woodland Realm. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the fates had once again dealt him a cruel choice between his love for his son and for the one he had loved as daughter yet now desired.

“I am sure he did not come to this decision lightly.” Tóriôn commented quietly as he reached for the carafe to refill her glass. “I can see that it pains him greatly.”

“No.” She agreed, frowning slightly as she turned toward him. “Unfortunately it was a decision made with his heart not his mind.”

“You do not give him enough credit Gilaiwë.” He stated, his silver eyes silencing her as she met his gaze evenly. “Though he hides it well, Thranduil has always listened to the voice in his heart. In many ways, especially with his son’s willingness to abandon him, Legolas has left him no choice in this matter. He has already sacrificed much in the name of the throne, he deserves the right to be selfish once.”

“So how do we help him?” She arched a brow as she lifted the wine glass to her lips.

“According to Galion he has done well in over the past weeks, stepping aside to allow her the chance to decide what she wants. He has limited his contact with her only to official matters yet his desire for her deepens.” Tóriôn said quietly, turning his attention to the dancers as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Lord Elvändéruil has been more than gracious in humoring my request that he occupy her time this evening.”

“What are you up to?” She asked, the sly smile on her lips belied the glare of her narrowed gaze as she watched him.

“There, see it?” He stated, nodding toward the prince, chuckling as she turned, looking toward the far corner.

Gilaiwë saw the flash of anger on the face of the young prince as the music faded, bringing the dance to an end. Lord Elvändéruil threw up his hands in mock despair before bowing to Tauriel as she was whisked away toward a nearby table by two young elleth’s (elf maiden).

“One is the Lady Cäthdéirÿn, the only child of Lord Tulcë and the other is Lady Cëänielóra, the only daughter to Lord Thalión and Lady Malinaloxë.” He said quietly, smiling as they watched the prince move toward a table occupied by two ellyn’s (male elf) they recognized as members of the forest patrol.

“You have been busy.” Gilaiwë chuckled, watching the Lady Laûrläéthëe lean close to Tauriel as one of the elleth’s (elf maiden) seated herself at the table while the other moved onto the floor with Lord Elvändéruil as the minstrels began to play again.

“Please.” He laughed, his silver eyes dancing as he turned to look at her. “I leave the match making to the elleth’s (elf maiden), I am simply trying to figure out who is who. The other two at the table are her friends from the forest patrol, the ebony haired one Aûraë is the daughter of Lord Arthädión and Lady Presráë. The other one, Ilÿraná is the daughter of Lady Kÿriäén.”

“Even so, you work very quickly.” She eyed him suspiciously from over the rim of her glass.

“Again you give me too much credit.” He laughed as he wiggled his thin brows at her. “All I needed to do was speak with our beloved busybody.”

“Galion, of course.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

“You needn’t worry.” Laûrläéthëe whispered in her ear as she filled the goblet with the dark red Dorwinion wine. “It has been very much watered down.”

“It has been a very long time since I have seen my brother so happy.” She laughed as she set the carafe back on the table, glancing around at the smiling faces of the others before turning back to smile at the surprised look on Tauriels’ face. “There was a time, long ago when I once looked at him the same as you do now.” She continued, her tone and expression softening as she met the young elleth’s (elf maiden) gaze. “Alas, he did not look upon me as he does you.”

Dropping her gaze from the beautiful elleth’s (elf maiden) face, Tauriel felt the room spin around her as she remembered the first time she had seen her with Thranduil in the meditation room. He had been so upset with her for not informing him of her plans to attend the festival. She knew then that she was of some importance, only now realizing that her mother was none other than the kings’ longtime friend and council member Lady Laurefindë.

“Tauriel.” Laûrläéthëe said softly, smiling brightly as she leaned closer to her. “My calling was elsewhere. All I care about now is his happiness and if he has found it in you, trust me when I say there are more than you realize who feel the same as I do.”

“I don’t understand.” Tauriel said quietly, glancing around the table as all eyes seemed to stare at her

“Oh, I think you do.” Cäthdéirÿn said quietly, her bright blue eyes dancing as she smiled at her with the same warmth as Laûrläéthëe. “The old ways are dying and we must look to the future if we are to survive.”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, frowning deeply as she studied Cäthdéirÿn’s face. “If we are to survive what?” Tauriel shifted uncomfortably as they all seemed to be studying her.

“Smile, you are supposed to be having fun.” Aûraë stated, smiling softly yet her tone was a bit scolding. “It helps if they believe we are little more than silly elleth’s (elf maiden) sitting here gossiping.” She added, her comment soliciting a burst of laughter from the others.

“There is talk the king will petition the council to abandon the oath that separates Sindar from Silvan.” Ilÿraná stated softly, her gaze imploring her to understand. “If this is true then even the nobles will have the right to marry of our own choosing.”

Staring at her normally quiet friend, Tauriel fell silent as she remembered the longing in her eyes before she turned away from Rielassë at the morning meal. A mixture of both Silvan and Sindar, there was a tight comradery among those of the forest patrol, their lives depended on each other out there and they knew it. Regardless of her noble birth, Ilÿraná was still Silvan and considered by some as less than those of Sindar heritage and Rielassë was Sindar.

“Thranduil has had centuries of practice at hiding himself behind one formidable mask after another.” Laûrläéthëe said quietly, a soft smile touching her lips as paused to take a sip from her goblet. “I can count on one hand those who know him well enough to know that he loves you. But he is no fool.” She added, her tone taking on a bit of warning note.

“He will not ask it of you.” She stated, studying the young former captain of the patrol. “He is well aware of his son’s feelings for you. Soon you must make a choice between them and it will not be easy for you.”

“What of Legolas?” Tauriel asked, her voice was barely above a whisper as tears stung the backs of her eyes, knowing if she followed her heart the choice was clear.

“There are those who have lost faith in the prince.” Cäthdéirÿn told her softly as she reached over to grasp her hand. “It has nothing to do with you. The prince is ruled too much by his heart, but he is impetuous like his grandfather and has never hidden the fact that he has no desire to rule.” She added quickly, squeezing her hand.

“Come, I know that he wishes to see you tonight.” Laûrläéthëe said quietly, smiling as she rose to her feet. “They are enjoying themselves tonight and will have fun distracting the prince for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Tauriel asked, casting her a sideways glance as she rose and turned away from the table and from Legolas.

“Many reasons some that cannot be explained.” Laûrläéthëe said quietly, clasping her hands loosely behind her back as they strolled casually toward the large doors of the ballroom. “They are right you know, the old ways are dying. Thranduil never believed in the separation of us as a people. I would never burden you by implying that this is your duty, yet as one who understands the weight of it, you are one who can also understand him.”

“I closed my heart to him once.” Tauriel reluctantly admitted as they reached the corridor that led to her rooms. “Fleeing into the forest, to spare my heart the pain of what I could not have.”

“There are many who still believe in fate.” Laûrläéthëe stated, her gaze turning inward for a moment. “There is no higher power that guides our lives, only the strength within ourselves to become what we need to be when the time comes.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Tauriel asked quietly, a nervous feeling settling over her as they reached her rooms.

“Follow your heart Tauriel.” Laûrläéthëe told her softly as she took her hands firmly in hers. “You have been given much to think about, but not tonight.” She said as she leaned closer to her. “Tonight he is not a king, he is just an ellyn (male elf) whose heart yearns for the one he loves.” She whispered as she hugged her tightly.

Turning away from her as she entered her rooms, Laûrläéthëe walked quickly toward Côrnäith, the guard who stood silently in the shadows of the tall statue near the stairs leading down to the kings’ private areas of the palace.

“It is the kings’ wishes that she not be disturbed.” She told him quietly.

“Ben iest gîn, hiril vuin.” (As you wish, my lady). The guard replied after casting a glance toward Thalieth, the guard standing watch on the landing at the bottom of the first set of stairs.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat as she closed the door, Tauriel felt as if her heart would burst. Walking toward the glowing hearth, her mind raced as she struggled to grasp not what they had told her, but with what had not been said and her own feelings. 

All her life Thranduil had been the one constant, first as her father, her protector and as her king. It had always been his strength that she had leaned on so selfishly and he never failed her, not once. Even when he banished her, she knew what it had cost him. She owed everything she was to him. Hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she stared into the flames. How it must have pained him to choose between his love for his son and the love he felt for her and he was being forced to do it again.

The folds of her gown swirled as she turned and fled to her bathing chamber. Grabbing a soft cloth, she soaked it in the cool water in the small bowl next to the basin. Shaking herself angrily for her weakness, she quickly washed away any signs of her tears and stared at her reflection in the polished silvered glass as she collected herself.

Frowning slightly, Thranduil watched in silence from the shadows of the small private sitting room opposite the hearth in her rooms. Concern etched in his brow as she walked back into the sitting room, a strange expression on her face yet there was soft smile that curled her lips. He let his gaze travel appreciatively over her as she walked back to the hearth. The simple yet elegant gown draped seductively over her feminine curves, artfully revealing nothing of the treasure hidden beneath the fine silk. Unhindered with her customary braids, her bright auburn hair hung freely to her waist.

“My Lord!” She gasped, instinctively stiffening as his arms closed tightly around her, pulling her against the length of his body, the familiar scent of him washing over her.

Trembling, a faint moan escaped her throat as she felt the heat of his lips brushing softly against her neck. Closing her eyes, she felt her entire body shudder as he gently suckled the soft flesh of her earlobe, his breath so warm against her skin.

“I will not ask of you what you do not freely give.” He whispered softly, his lips brushing her neck as he slid one hand down the length of her taut stomach. “Is your answer still yes?” He asked quietly, pressing her against his hips.

“Yes.” She whispered, relaxing against him as she grasped the arm holding her so possessively just beneath her breasts. Swallowing against a parched throat as she felt the hard length of his desire pressing against her lower back.

Thranduil felt his heart leap as he gathered her into his arms, cradling her against him, he turned away from the hearth. Smiling to himself as he strode purposefully toward her bed chamber, his long legs clearing the distance quickly. Lowering her to her feet as he reached the edge of the bed, he took her face in his hands, capturing her mouth in long searching kiss.

“Aye Eru (God)!” He groaned silently, he felt her lifting herself upward, thrusting her hot little tongue into his mouth. His breath quickened as their tongues entwined, intensifying the growing pain in his groin. Many nights over the long months her emerald eyes and the sound of her sweet laughter had tormented him in his dreams with no relief.

Reluctantly, he released her mouth only to turn her away from him, hugging her tightly against himself for a moment before lifting her hair over her shoulder, he paused to lean down kissing her neck softly. His nimble fingers made quick work of unfastening the row of tiny buttons down the back of her gown. Slipping his arms around her as he pushed it from her shoulders, he teased her taut nipples through the thin silk of the soft chemise, smiling to himself as she trembled and leaned against him.

“Thranduil...” She breathed, turning her face toward him, her body trembling as her legs grew weak beneath her.

Silenced as he leaned down, slipping his tongue into her open mouth as he tightened his arm beneath her breasts. Her arms trapped at her sides, she lifted herself onto her toes as she snaked her tongue into his mouth. Moaning softly as he slipped his hand between her warm flesh and the thin silk of her undergarment. Clenching her hands as she felt his finger slide between the lips of her wet sex, drawing the tip of his finger upward to the find the sensitive spot at the apex. Squirming at the touch, her moans grew louder as he massaged her now very slick pearl, building the tension within her.

“I dhû hen and.” (You’re in for a long night) He whispered in a voice thick with desire, his lips brushing teasingly over hers as he spoke. “I have thought of little beyond this moment since last night.” He told her softly as he removed the soft silks of her undergarments, casting them aside, he gave her a gentle nudge toward the bed.

Climbing into the center of it she turned to face him, only now realizing he had changed from his official robes, he wore no crown, only a soft blue tunic and gray leggings. She watched in awe as he pulled the tunic over his head, tossing it carelessly on top of her gown. Her gaze flowed over his tall frame, admiring the toned muscles of his broad shoulders and chest. She felt her mouth go dry as the leggings slipped freely to the floor, revealing far more than a slender waist and strong thighs.

Gathering her into his arms as he slipped into the bed with her, he was content for the moment to simply hold her. Kissing her lips and face softly, waiting patiently for her to relax before turning to her neck, trailing his lips slowly toward her hardened nipples.

Clenching her jaws to keep from crying out, she tangled her fingers in his hair as he flicked one nipple before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. There was no pain yet it was not the gentle teasing she had known with Legolas. The warm mouth at her breast suckled like a babe starved for it as his tongue swirled over the hard little bud, sending jolts of pleasure through her as he moved between them.

Grasping her wrists as he trailed his kisses lower over her taut stomach toward her sex, he held them firmly. Settling himself between her thighs, he watched her through narrowed eyes as he slid his tongue along the crevice of her sex. Smiling as she lifted her head to look down at him, he pressed his face tightly against her sex, thrusting his tongue into her. Encircling her swollen pearl with his lips, he suckled it firmly as he teased it with the tip of his tongue.

“Ahh!” Tauriel cried out, her thighs instinctively tried to close against the pleasure that bordered on pain. She heard her own voice as if in a distance, moaning shamelessly as pleasure beyond anything she had imagined coursed through her body. With a mind of its own, she felt her body responding to that tantalizing mouth and tongue as she rocked hard against him, seeking release from the near painful tension he had built within her.

Smiling as she arched against him one last time, Thranduil lapped greedily at the sweet taste of her fluids before moving up over her. Capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss, he carefully guided himself in place and slowly entered her. A soft whimper escaped his lips as he rocked forward, the tight sheath of her sex gripped him as he buried himself in her warmth. Wincing slightly as he felt her fingers digging into his back, he held himself still, allowing her to grow accustomed to his presence within her.

Slipping his arms beneath her shoulders, he cradled her head in his hands as his kiss turned more searching. Breathing in the fragrant aromas of lavender, lilac, the familiar scent of her, and now the stronger scent of their passion, Thranduil wanted the moment to last forever. Slowly as he rocked against her, savoring the feel of her flexing muscles, he felt her moving with him. Her fingers tracing teasing patterns over his back, sent shivers through him as he struggled to hold back his release.

Feeling him tremble, Tauriel wrapped her arms around him as he stiffened, groaning painfully as he buried his face in her neck. His breath was ragged as tension broke within him, his hips jerked forward as she felt the warmth of his release filling her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to get posted, just had a lot of things going, unreliable internet being one of them! 
> 
> As always, comments are welcome!


	14. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Thranduil and Tauriel finally declare their love to each other, there are those that plot to tear them apart.

The fire in the hearth had burned down to little more than a few glowing embers as the last dregs of sleep lifted from him. A slight smile curled Thranduils’ lips as he recalled the events of the festival but more particularly the events that followed and resisted the urge to hug the soft warm body closer to him. The room was filled with the aromas of her preferred lavender and lilac, the scent of her filled his senses as he lay there quietly with his face buried in the soft silkiness of her hair. One arm possessively holding her around her slender waist, he was more than aware of the firm breast he held gently in his hand. The warmth of her naked body pressed so tightly against his own as he curled around her had stirred his desire to an ache in his groin.

Forcing his mind to other things he allowed her to sleep as he mentally shook his head at her unpredictable nature. She alone had the ability anger him beyond reason with her stubbornness yet a certain glance, a smile or a touch could incite such a desire within him that he was willing to throw caution to the wind. He loved his son beyond words yet he knew with deep regret that once he learned of the liaison things would be forever changed between them. Instinctively he tightened his arm slightly around her, his thoughts turning to their confrontation is his private study the day he had returned to the Woodland Realm.

He thought of the previous evening in the meditation room, questioning his reasoning. While he had told himself he only wished to speak with her and to make peace between them, the nagging voice of his conscience knew otherwise. He had been unable to resist any excuse to touch her as he stepped behind her, brushing the soft warm skin of her neck with his fingertips as he lifted her hair. His mind told him he should have accepted her apology and left it at that, while his heart could not because she had in truth done nothing wrong.

Stretching slightly as sleep began to slip from her, Tauriel awoke completely. Everything came flooding back through her mind like a raging river threatening to sweep her away. She had been so swept up in the excitement of the festivities there was so much she had not noticed. Legolas loomed in her thoughts, his stern expression as Elvändéruil became even more possessive of her than usual. The strange knowing glances as the faces of Aûraë and Ilÿraná loomed before her minds’ eye as bits and pieces of their conversation tugged at her memory.

In a blink of an eye all of it washed over her and was gone, replaced by her awareness of him as he held her possessively against the hardness of his warm body. She felt the heat of his breath on her neck, the soft caress of her breast held gently in his hand. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the hard length of his desire pressed firmly against her backside, her heart raced as her own desire began to stir between her legs.

Trembling at his touch, she felt his fingertips trace teasingly down her stomach, slipping easily between her thighs. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she felt the hand at her breast gently roll her nipple in his fingers as the other explored the growing wetness of her sex, dipping deeply into her only to draw upward to massage her swollen nub. Her soft whimpers grew into deeper groans as he continued to pleasure her, playing her body as a minstrel would his instrument, he seemed to know just where and how to touch her to make her want him more.

Gasping as he moved over her, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss. Struggling for breath beneath the onslaught of his hungry mouth, she dug her nails into the muscled flesh of his shoulders as she felt the hard thickness of him enter her. Arching slightly against the pleasure mingled with a discomfort that bordered on pain, she clung to him as he gently rocked against her. Slowly the discomfort subsided as he built the tension between them, holding her in gentle yet strong arms.

Cradling her head in his hands, he struggled to hold back as she tangled her fingers in his hair, returning his kiss with a passion of her own as her hips rose to match his need. Pulling back slightly, he teased her lips with gentle kisses and soft whispered words of love as he felt her flexing muscles drawing her closer to her release. A deep groan escaped his lips, his body stiffening as he felt the tension suddenly break, draining his release from him.

Smiling to herself as he lay spent on top of her, Tauriel turned toward him, pressing her cheek against his. Closing her eyes, she became more aware of his muscled body, the sound of his ragged breaths, the feel of his heart beating against her breasts. Slipping her arms around his waist, she breathed in the familiar scent him now mingled with the stronger scent of their shared passion.

“Good morning.” He whispered after long moments, his lips teasing the softness of her earlobe as he spoke.

“Mmmmm.” Tauriel purred softly, turning toward his face, kissing his parted lips. A slight smile curled her own as she teased his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

“You keep that up and I will keep you abed all day.” He growled playfully, moving quickly to capture her wrists. Pulling them over her head as he smiled down at her, his mouth close enough to hers he could feel her soft breath on his lips. “I think I would enjoy that very much.” He added, his lips brushing her chin as he spoke, his deep voice laced with desire.

“I think I would like to be able to walk.” She laughed softly as she squirmed teasingly beneath him.

“I did not hurt you did I?” He asked, stiffening as he released her wrists quickly, genuine concern thick in his voice.

“Oh no!” She exclaimed, her tone carried a hint of laughter as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I was only picking on you.”

Capturing her mouth in tender kiss, he cut himself off before he spoke. It had been many years since she was that little elleth (elf maiden) who used to pick on him for his funny ways as she would call them. They seemed to argue more now that she was older and he was no longer used to her humor and teasing banter.

“Tauriel.” He sighed heavily, pulling back slightly from her yet still held her possessively in his arms as he struggled with the reality of their situation. “I love you.” He whispered softly, his lips teasing hers as he spoke. “There are things we need to discuss.” He added as he placed soft kisses over her face, lingering once more on her warm responsive lips.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Tauriel brought her hands to his face, gently tracing her fingertips over his cheeks. She could feel his body tensing as he studied her, waiting for some response yet her thoughts raced chaotically in her mind. Pulling his face to hers, she kissed him deeply, savoring the taste of him even as she felt the tremble of uncertainty in his lips.

“I love you Thranduil.” She whispered, her arms slipping around his neck as she pulled him closer. “My heart has always belonged to you.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You are late.” Lord Tirithiáël stated, his tone quiet yet carried easily across the wide expanse of his public sitting room.

“I apologize Adar (Father).” Lord Ortäuré said quietly, nodding respectfully toward him as he approached the large hearth to join him. “I was forced to remain in Erebor longer than I had originally planned.”

“Forced?” Lord Tirithiáël asked, arching a brow as his unreadable pale blue eyes studied his son.

“Ayë.” (Yes) Lord Ortäuré replied as firmly yet as respectfully as possible. “You were correct in assuming the traps had been set by Ardara and his men. Unfortunately, it took longer than anticipated to find and destroy them all. Even so, I am not sure we were successful.”

“It is my understanding that Captain Lárasarnë reported only three?” Lord Tirithiáël continued, the disapproval dripping from his tone as he turned toward the low table in front of the settee. “I would think you could have dispatched them quite easily.” He added as he picked up the carafe of wine from the tray on the table, pouring a goblet for his son.

“We actually found twelve scattered toward the west and southern regions.” Lord Ortäuré stated, his own pale blue gaze meeting that of his fathers’ as he accepted the goblet. “It was necessary to not only destroy them but to remove any trace of them.”

“I am concerned this will create an unnecessary stain between our two houses.” Lord Tirithiáël sighed as he sank down into one of the chairs before the hearth, motioning his son toward the one opposite him. “While Lord Thalión appears agreeable to my proposal, the Lady Malinaloxë is far less inclined.”

“Oviëdó has agreed to this?” Lord Ortäuré asked as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

“He will do as he is told.” Lord Tirithiáël stated calmly although his eyes flashed angrily at his eldest son. “As will you when the time comes. A marriage between our two houses will remove the suspicion from me.”

“And what is it you would have me do Adar?” (Father) He asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched the play of expressions chase themselves across his fathers’ face.

“Tomorrow is the last day of the festival, I trust you will be in attendance?” He replied, ignoring his sons’ question for the most part.

“When the council convenes Thranduil intends to appoint the little wench as Commander over the Forest Patrol.” He continued when his son only nodded. “As if the physical confrontation in his study was not enough, this will drive a wedge further within the royal house.”

“I am not as confident as you that he will bend to any demands.” Lord Ortäuré said quietly as he studied his father. “Many have tried in the past only to suffer the consequences of his wrath.”

“This I believe he will do.” Lord Tirithiáël chuckled, his eyes almost dancing as he smiled at him. “The only reason he wants to abolish the hereditary oath is so he can have her to himself.”

“Oh come now.” He laughed throatily as he watched his sons’ brow raise high on his forehead. “Anyone paying attention can see the fool is in love with her. Which is why you will make sure she is never returned to the Woodland Realm.”

“You cannot be serious?!” Lord Ortäuré blurted in disbelief, nearly dropping his goblet.

“You will do as you’re told!” Lord Tirithiáël exclaimed angrily. “It is improper but Oviëdós’ betrothal to Lady Cëänielóra will secure the support of the Silvan elves but I will secure the throne through your betrothal to Lady Cäthdéirÿn. See to it that you pay special attention to her this evening, now leave me.”

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord) He spat angrily as he pushed himself up from the chair.

Turning his gaze away from the retreating form of his son, Lord Tirithiáël stared into the flames of the hearth. He had waited many long years for the tides to finally turn in his favor and one little Silvan elf wench was not going to stop him now. The only two obstacles in his way were Lord Garävegión and the Lady Laurefindë and they were unfortunately too close to the king for his comfort. Already there were far too many Silvan elves sitting on the council and acting as advisors to the king for his liking.

A slight smile curled his lips as he lifted the goblet to his mouth. He may have referred to him as a fool for allowing the elleth (elf maiden) to steal his heart, but Tirithiáël knew better. Thranduil was not so easily swayed from his responsibilities to the throne. He recognized it for the tactic it was, by allowing the rumors to spread that he was considering abandoning the hereditary oath he would definitely further endear him to the Silvan elves. However, there was still the problem of the younger nobles and their proclivity for abandoning the old ways of duty and honor.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“So, you actually told her everything?” Gilaiwë said quietly, her dark blue eyes dancing with the laughter she managed to hide from her voice as she stared at him from over the rim of her wine glass.

“Yes I did.” Thranduil sighed, yet he smiled as he gave her that look that told her he really did not want to talk about it before turning to look out over the ballroom as the minstrels began to play again.

“Oh no you are not getting out this dear one.” She laughed softly, noting the slight color creep from beneath the collar of his formal robes.

“We discussed a great many things.” He stated, his gaze flickering quickly over Tauriel as Lord Elvändéruil drew her once more onto the floor. “It would seem that my private matters have not been kept so private.” He added, arching a brow as he turned back toward her.

“Not I!” She exclaimed yet could not help chuckling at his obvious embarrassment. “I take it she already knew about Galion as well?” She asked, shifting uncomfortably beneath his irritated gaze.

“I am not sure if this is merely the calm before the storm.” He said quietly, pulling on his mask as he turned back toward the ballroom. “I tried talking to her once before and only succeeded in angering her.” He commented, smiling as he nodded toward Lord Garävegións’ daughter, the Lady Saélihn as he briefly met her gaze.

“She was not yet ready to hear it.” Gilaiwë said almost to herself as she followed his gaze out onto the ballroom floor. “It is good that she has Elvändéruil to lean on, he already follows her everywhere.” She added as she watched the two of them together.

“They have been friends for many years.” Thranduil said, turning his attention toward one of the tables closest to where his son stood. “I have already spoke with Laurefindë about appointing him as her personal guard once she assumes the role of Commander of the Forest Patrol.”

“Are you sure that is necessary?” She asked, her eyes widened slightly as all thoughts of picking on him faded when she noticed the strained expression on his face.

“Within the week I will discuss things with Aldalómë and select others whom I trust to watch out for her.” He said, forcing a smile as he turned back to her, his gaze staring deeply into hers. “I have brought her into a world she knows nothing about. She will be easy prey for those who seek to control me.”

“Thranduil...”

“I have felt it for some time now.” He quietly interrupted her as he picked up his goblet, taking a long drink. “I have yet to learn who is behind it but I will not take chances that any harm come to her because of me.”

“Tóriôn and I can remain here as long as you need us.” She told him as she reached over, giving his hand a firm squeeze.

“It would be nice to have you stay.” He said, flashing her a genuine smile as he patted her hand. “It has been good to have so many back in my halls again, it has been a long time.” He added as he turned his gaze once more to scan the ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!
> 
> I’m only working on one story now so I am hoping to be able to post new chapters more quickly as I personally really want to finish this story myself! But I don’t want to rush it at the expense of the story itself.


	15. Courtly Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas struggles to figure out the truth behind his fathers’ decision to abandon the oath as his love for Tauriel deepens, his jealousy toward Elvändéruil grows. Thranduil and Tauriel struggle to come to terms their differences and how it will affect their relationship. Tauriel is only just beginning to understand the very real dangers of her involvement with the King.

The palace was quiet as the young prince strode purposefully through the empty halls. It was to be a day of rest following the revelry of the Festival of Winter Solstice, yet he found no rest nor peace. Pacing before the hearth in his rooms had only served to fuel his anger more as images of Tauriel and her ever present companion Elvändéruil danced before his minds’ eye. He had no clear destination in mind as he quickly traversed the labyrinth of corridors, he knew only that he needed to keep moving. He needed to feel like he was doing something but there was nothing he could do about the situation.

Trapped inside the palace as the kings’ order was firm, unless they were part of the patrol, no one was permitted to leave the fortress without an escort. He had sought escape into the forest only to be informed by Captain Lárasarnë that he was under direct orders by Aldalómë not to include him in the morning patrol. He knew better, the order had to have come from his father himself. Flexing his fingers to hide the tremble, he felt his anger racing through his veins. Disjointed thoughts filled his mind as he schooled his expression to one he hoped reflected the attitude of calm indifference, nodding as politely as possible to the few passersby he encountered. 

Efforts to speak with his father that morning had been futile. In his current mood Legolas knew he should probably not be talking to him or Tauriel. It was not unusual for his father to ignore a day of rest when there were matters that he felt required his personal attention. There were also various guests visiting from other lands for the festival and he knew his father enjoyed all the attention he received for his role as host to them. Particularly the Lady Gilaiwë of Lórinand and Tóriôn, her personal attendant.

Finding his way down into the kings’ royal stables, he moved silently up the ladder to the loft and found a comfortable place in the hay. Unbidden his thoughts turned to Tauriel and the last time they were alone together in the solarium. He had sensed something changed within her, as if she had given up and resigned herself to a life within the palace walls. Again he felt his anger surge, knowing it was his father that kept her here. Legolas knew of very few with the ability to withstand his fathers’ will, especially when his mind was set on certain path.

All his life his father had counseled him to disregard palace gossip yet he could no longer ignore the fact that some of those sources had not been servants. What he knew of his grandfather King Oropher came mostly from history books in his fathers’ library or his private tutors as it was yet another topic his father had always refused to talk about. It had been his grandfather’s lineage to King Thingol of Doriath that had secured him the position as King of the Woodland Realm over the other Sindar nobles that had made the journey east during the early part of the Second Age.

Part of him rationalized the possibility of truth to the rumors that his father would even consider abolishing the hereditary oath as he had never agreed with the separation of elves based on their clan of origin. Yet at the same time careful records were maintained by the clerics at the temple concerning the birth and lineage of every elf born within the Woodland Realm expressly for the purpose of maintaining a written record of the line to the throne.

The events of the festival still clear in his mind, Legolas wondered at many things. There was a strange undercurrent within the palace of late, one that did not sit well with him yet he could not separate it from his own discontent. There was still something about the fact that his father had taken it upon himself to personally retrieve Tauriel from Lórinand that bothered him, it seemed like an impulsive act that was not his usual nature. He understood his father better than most and knew he had always viewed her as a daughter. As such it could have been very much like him to not only go against the council in reversing his decision to banish her but insure her safe return, even if he had to do it himself. 

Chewing absently on a stalk of hay, he struggled to control his anger and collect his thoughts. He loved his father and knew it had been a reckless decision of the heart to abandon him, yet he knew as well it was only his love for Tauriel that had brought him back. Jealousy crept into his thoughts, recalling that it had been Elvändéruils’ sister, Lady Laûrläéthëe that had lead Tauriel out of the ballroom with the lord disappearing not long afterward.

Other than himself as a direct successor to the throne, Elvändéruil was second in line following Aldalómë for consideration in the event death was to befall both he and his father. Left with an heir that had essentially abandoned him, he could see why his father would have considered it if for no other reason than necessity. Abandoning the oath would permit Elvändéruil to marry anyone of his choosing, including Tauriel.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Most of the lamps in the kings’ chambers had been turned down, bathing the enormous sitting room in a soft glow. The dancing flames in the grand hearth washed the room in an inviting ember warmth as the two snuggled together on the furs with their backs against the large soft pillows. Behind them on the low table in front of the long settee sat the remains of a partially eaten midday meal and two crystal goblets of wine left half full.

Closing her eyes, Tauriel snuggled closer to him, smiling as kissed her forehead softly, his arms tightening slightly around her in a gentle yet possessive embrace. She listened to the steady beat of his heart as his fingers absently toyed with the loose strands of her hair. As a small child she had often sought the comfort and safety of his fatherly embrace, curled protectively in his lap. A soft, almost silent chuckle escaped her lips as she remembered how she would press her cheek against his chest, cuddling close to him letting the vibrations of his deep baritone voice lull her to sleep as he read her stories.

“What is so funny?” Thranduil asked softly as he tipped her chin upward, allowing him to gaze curiously down at her.

“I was just remembering when I would curl up in your lap and listen to your voice as you read me stories.” She replied quietly, smiling up at him. 

“And now?” He whispered, his arms tightening around her as he kissed her lips softly. There was an uncertainty in the smile that curled his lips as his gaze flickered over her face, studying her.

“I have not been that child for a very long time.” She told him quietly, her gaze meeting his evenly as she slipped her hand beneath the soft silk of his open tunic. Enjoying the way his breath caught slightly in his throat, feeling the warmth of his skin as she ran her fingers teasingly over his lower belly.

“You are most definitely not a child.” He said softly, his tone deepening as he reached down to grasp her hand to keep it from going any further. “I feel as though I have crossed a forbidden boundary.” He continued almost to himself as he lifted her hand to his lips. “All those years ago...” He let his voice trail off as he kissed her fingertips, closing his eyes as he held the palm of her hand to his lips for long moments.

“Perhaps because I knew it was forbidden by decree.” He said quietly, turning to look at her as he pressed her hand to his cheek. “Still, as I watched you grow.” His voice trailed off as he searched for his words. “I called you daughter to keep you close because I loved you then.” He told her, his voice was thick with emotion as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

“Thranduil.” She whispered, her lips teasing his as she spoke. It was odd yet at the same time it felt right to call him by his given name.

“There is so much we still need to talk about, things you need to know.” He said quietly as he adjusted his position against the pillows, pulling her down into the crook of his arm. “It will take time for you to adjust to certain hardships as I am never truly alone outside of these rooms.” He told her, his expression was almost apologetic as he smiled down at her, gently tracing his finger along the outline of her chin.

“Nothing can change between us beyond these rooms. You know this right?” He asked, a slight frown creasing his brow as he studied her, watching the play of expressions within her darkening green eyes.

“I don’t like it but I understand.” She sighed after long moments.

It was already difficult as her thoughts turned to the previous evening and how empty her bed felt without him to curl up against. She had loved him silently from a safe distance for so long, actually denying it to herself in her mind but her heart had always known different. The scent of him still lingered on the pillows as she clutched them tightly to her, remembering the feel of his body curled against hers. Trembling as she remembered the feel of his desire for her, his gentle touch as he took her beyond anything she had felt before.

Pressing his lips to her forehead as he hugged her close, she felt more like a frightened little bird in his arms than the fiery headstrong young elleth (elf maiden) she had grown into. Smiling to himself as he held her, he knew it was the part of her that he both loved and struggled with for so long. It had been the fire within her, her inner strength that had drawn him to her like a moth to the flame and he knew he would do anything to keep her safe.

“There are things I will not be able to discuss with you but I want us to promise each other that we will have no secrets between us.” He said quietly, pulling slightly away from her after long moments.

“What things, what kinds of secrets?” She asked, frowning up at him.

“There are council matters that will not be of any concern to you.” He told her, a subtle note of laughter laced his tone as he smiled down at her. “You know this.”

“I doubt very much there is anything about me that you do not already know.” She stated, a slight smile curled her full lips as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Touché.” He chuckled, his face lighting up as he smiled broadly down at her. “Still, I want no secrets between us.” He continued as he reached up, brushing a few stray tendrils of her hair back from her face, tucking them behind her ear.

“I have nothing to hide from you.” She told him, a deep frown creasing her brow as she studied him. “What is this about?” She asked, feeling the tension within him in spite of his smile.

“Thranduil.” She began quietly as she reached up to caress his face, noting the pain that seemed to radiate from his eyes as he seemed to look inward for long moments. “We have lived separate lives for many years. There are things that will take time to reveal to each other.”

“There are things you need to know now.” He stated, a slight smile softened the stern expression on his face. “When Athëálÿssíä left us.” He continued, his tone becoming thoughtful as his gaze took on a distant look as if he were in another place and time. “I could not replace the mother my son had lost. I devoted my life to being whatever he needed in her absence.” He sighed as he finally looked at her. “Yet I did not deny my own needs.” He told her, his gaze becoming more intense as he paused for a moment, remembering how she first reacted when he revealed his relationships with Galion and Gilaiwë.

“Promise me you will hear me out before you say anything.” He said as he leaned into her hand as she held his face.

“There is a secret passage that connects our rooms.” He stated when she only nodded. “I had it made when Legolas was old enough to be given his own rooms. It is important to me that my private life...”

“What?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening as he pulled back from her when she unexpectedly burst into laughter. “What is so funny?” He demanded, his eyes now narrowing dangerously at her.

“You!” Tauriel gasped as she struggled to control herself. The startled look on his face was too funny even as she had felt his tension as he struggled for his words. 

“I am being serious!” Thranduil exclaimed, completely confused by her reaction.

“I know you are and that’s why it’s so funny.” She chuckled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “We are not going to be able to talk to each other if you don’t relax.” She told him, kissing his cheek softly.

“I just do not want to argue with you.” He sighed heavily as he hugged her fiercely, burying his face in her neck.

“Thranduil, we are going to argue. It is the way of things.” She told him pointedly, stroking his hair softy. “We are both very stubborn, you know this.”

“You are right.” He sighed, pulling back enough to look at her. “For so long I have felt the need to guard my words so they are not used against me.”

“If you do not want me to remind you of your words, don’t make promises you can’t keep. As far as you and your privacy.” She stated as she shifted away from him slightly, forcing him to look at her. “Did it occur to you that I want the same thing for myself?” She asked, arching a brow inquisitively at him.

“I sought only to protect you.” He told her, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Do not treat me like a child.” She stated sternly, her eyes narrowing as she struggled with the anger rising within her. “I am not child nor am I a fool. There is talk throughout the palace that you want to abolish the oath. Whether we like it or not, all eyes will turn to us, to me.”

“I am not treating you like a child.” He replied as he leaned back from her slightly. “There is a council meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning at which time I will announce your return to the forest patrol. But!” He exclaimed quickly as her face lit up. “You will be returning as their commander, not as a captain.”

“What?!” She gasped, her eyes widening as she stared at him in disbelief.

“It is why I made you wait before I told you of my decision.” He continued, his tone taking on his customary regal air. “You are being given the position because of your abilities not our relationship. I will expect no less from you than I would from anyone else.”

“What of Legolas?” She asked quietly, still stunned at his decision.

“My son has no plans to remain here.” He told her, studying her. “I am surprised he has not already told you this.”

“He has spoken to me only briefly since...” She cut herself off as thoughts of their encounter in the solarium filled her mind, remembering the moment when she knew in her heart she did not love him.

“When he found you alone in the solarium?” Thranduil asked softly, a soft smile curled his lips as he arched a brow at her. “Very little happens within this palace that I do not know of it. And I know everything when it comes to my son and now you.” He told her quietly as she stared at him through widening eyes.

“And the answer is no.” He told her before she could speak. “The guards will remain. Unless they receive a direct order from me, they will shadow your every movement both in and out of the palace. It is not open for discussion Tauriel.”

“I don’t have to like it.” She stated angrily as she met his gaze defiantly.

“It was no different for Legolas.” Thranduil told her, realizing she was not going to let it rest between them. “He was not in favor of it yet he understood the logic of it.”

“He is the prince and heir to the throne.” Tauriel countered, struggling to hold her ground with him. “It was a necessity.”

“And soon enough there will be those who see you as something that can be used against me.” He stated pointedly. “You said it yourself. Once the oath is abolished, no matter how careful we are, all eyes will turn to us, to you. I am no fool either Tauriel. There are those who would seek to find some way to use you to control me and I cannot allow that.”

“No one would dare harm you!” She exclaimed, fear gripping her heart as she stared at him.

“Tauriel.” He sighed heavily as he pulled her into his arms. “You must trust me, it is not harm to me that I fear as much as harm coming to you. Agreeing to allow you to return to the patrols was the hardest thing I have had to do in a very long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a while to get this chapter written!
> 
> Yes, Thranduil is what some may see as ‘a fool in love’ at the moment, but I needed to write him in his true nature (as I see him). He is just as ordinary as anyone else when it comes to love and matters of the heart, but he is still very much the King and not to be taken lightly. As with any story/novel written within this type of setting (Renaissance Era Europe), there is always courtly intrigue created by those who would secretly try to control the crown, or wear it themselves!
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	16. Winds of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions mount within Thranduils’ Halls as Elvändéruil gets closer to uncovering the plot against the throne and Legolas slowly begins to put the pieces together between his father and Tauriel.

“Why are we meeting in your mothers’ chambers?” Ráerû asked curiously as Elvändéruil closed and locked the door behind them.

“It is the safest place to talk. Mother is in a council meeting.” He replied as he walked toward her wine cupboard. “She dismissed both Táëglÿn and Tälileá when she left this morning. Which means she thinks it will drag on through most of the day I’m afraid.” 

“I have no idea why he puts up with half of those buffoons!” Ráerû complained angrily over his shoulder as he went to the hearth to add more logs. “If you ask me everything should go back to old ways and just let the king run the kingdom.”

“The council is one of the reasons why the people love him so much.” Elvändéruil laughed as he walked toward the hearth, setting one of the goblets on the low table between the two chairs then sinking down comfortably into one of them.

“It seems to me that if they love him so much one would think they would want him to be happy.” Ráerû stated flippantly, tossing his head as he stood up sending his long dark tresses flying behind him. “I’m not noble born so I don’t understand the need for all of this pretentious courting of a bunch of pompous fools.”

“What are you laughing at?” Ráerû asked, narrowing his eyes as he plopped down in the chair opposite him and reached for the goblet. “It’s the truth.”

“The truth is, my dear friend, the kingdom is still very much a monarchy. Thranduil does have the final say.” Elvändéruil stated, still grinning at him. “He created the council shortly after he succeeded his father to give a voice to the people, Silvan as well as Sindar. Something his father would never have considered.”

“I don’t remember much about King Oropher.” He said quietly, a frown creasing his brow for a moment.

“Not many do sadly.” Elvändéruil sighed heavily. “We lost so many at the Battle of Dagorlad during the Last Alliance which is why Thranduil is reluctant to pledge the support of our forces outside our own lands save our allies. It was only his pledge of protection to the Master of Lake Town that brought us into the Battle in the Shadow of the Lonely Mountain. But none of us were prepared to face the armies of Azog the Defiler.”

Silence fell between them for long moments as each stared into the growing flames of the hearth, lost in their own thoughts. Unlike humans and dwarves, elves had few children during their long lives, often only two or three. It would take years, perhaps centuries for them to recuperate from the lives lost. It was yet another reason that each life was so precious to them and meant to be cherished and protected.

“You did not ask me here to talk of council meetings and old battles.” Ráerû said quietly, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Things are getting too complicated and I need your help.” Elvändéruil stated, turning his gaze to meet the deep green eyes of his friend. “But you need to keep all of this to yourself, not a word to anyone.”

“Of course!” Ráerû exclaimed although his eyes narrowed as he studied his friend.

“For reasons I cannot explain right now, I cannot leave the palace.” Elvändéruil stated, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Healers are coming and going daily out of Lake Town, as one of them it will be easy for you to mingle with them and use my room at the Half Barrel Inn. There are two men staying there, Ardara and Donagh who have been meeting with an elf I have yet to identify. I need to know who he is.”

“This doesn’t sound good.” Ráerû sighed heavily as he lifted the goblet to his lips, draining it. “Am I to assume these men are not from Lake Town?” He asked as he rose to his feet, reaching for his friends’ goblet to refill it.

“With so many flooding into Erebor right now, it is difficult to say.” He replied, handing him the goblet.

“Why is this so important to you?” Ráerû could not help ask as he refilled their goblets. “And don’t tell me you can’t say.” He added more forcefully than he intended as he turned back to the hearth.

“Look.” He stated as Elvändéruil only stared at him. “I’m not saying I won’t help you, you know I will otherwise you would not have asked. I think I have right to know what I’m getting into.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He sighed as he accepted the goblet from him. “I have reason to believe that either Tauriel or Eru (God) forbid the King himself may be in danger...”

“What?!” Ráerû gasped, his eyes widening as he dropped down into the chair. “You can’t be serious?!” He felt his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach as he stared into the stoic expression that told him he was very serious.

“Ever since the rumors began that Thranduil wants to abolish the hereditary oath, there has been an uneasiness among some of the Sindar, including council members. Particularly those who still hold to the old ways.” Elvändéruil said quietly, pausing to take a long drink from his goblet. “If the threat is to Thranduil it is because Legolas is seen as weak, they believe they can control him if something should happen to the king. Even so, Thranduil’s reach goes well beyond our borders, as most of our alliances have been formed based his personal relationships with them, we could lose them if something were to happen to him. So that leaves Tauriel. At this point it is little more than palace gossip, but if they believe there is something between the two of them, they might try to use her to control Thranduil.”

“Is that why you have been acting like a love sick fool around her?” Ráerû asked, arching a brow, his gaze challenging him to deny it. “Is that what you cannot explain right now?” He pressed him, knowing full well what was going on. “You can deny it all you want. I know you’re not interested in her but you certainly have the prince all tied in knots.”

“You are far too observant and you know me all too well.” Elvändéruil sighed as he shook his head. “I just hope the right people are fooled at least until this whole ordeal has passed.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Silently, from his position at the other end of the council table, Lord Garävegión noted the slight muscle twitch in Thranduils’ neck. It was the only outward sign of his growing frustration with the continued pointless arguing amongst some of the lower level council members. The guarded expression was almost statuesque as his gaze swept over the faces around the table. The fact that it well into the hour for the midday meal did little to cool the tempers of some of them. It was unfortunately expected, the ruling Sindar believing they could sway the king to their favor solely on the pretense that their combined land holdings consisted of the majority and therefore felt they represented the best interest of the people in general.

“The truth of the matter is that your arguments are moot.” He finally spoke up, having grown tired of the meaningless arguments.

“What do you mean moot?” Lord Tulcë stated indignantly, his dark eyes narrowing as he all but glared at the Chief Advisor. “The oath is clear in stating that the ruler must wed within their own class.”

“So it does.” Lord Garävegión stated. “What has not yet been addressed is the fact the oath also infers that an heir can be so named provided they descend from his line.”

“Preposterous!” Lord Tirithiáël stated in frustration, leaning forward as he turned toward the Chief Advisor. “Oropher would never have allowed a bastard could sit upon the throne!”

“A bastard no, but the rightful child of a legitimate ruler yes.” Lord Garävegión said quietly as a sudden silence filled the room. "Stubborn and pig headed as he might have been Oropher was not such a fool that he would end his bloodline to the throne of the Woodland Realm.”

“I suppose you would have me believe that by rightful child you mean born within wedlock?” Lord Tirithiáël stated more than asked as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“That is precisely what I am saying.” Lord Garävegión stated as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met the lords stare evenly. “So long as the child can be properly traced back to him, the child is to be considered a legitimate heir to the throne regardless of parentage.”

“Nimloth.” Lord Garävegión stated as he turned toward the young chronicler, smiling softly to lessen the sting in his tone. “What you are being given is the full order as written by Oropher.” He continued as she quickly moved around the table, handing each councilor a sheaf of papers.

“While it may pain some of you greatly.” He continued, noting those who quickly scanned the pages of the documents handed them. “Oropher’s only discontent was with the Noldor, not those of Telerin descent as are the Silvan. The blood of the Vanyar weakens as does the direct line to the throne, it was as much his bloodline of the Vanyar he sought to preserve as that of the Sindar.”

“Eru (God) forbid anything should happen to either the king or the prince...” Lord Tulcë stated, nodding respectfully toward Thranduil as he spoke. “We have suffered much in the way of lives lost on the plains of Erebor. Should we be drawn once more to war with a half breed heir that would...”

“I have heard enough!” Thranduil stated in his most commanding voice, his eyes moved slowly around the table as he rose to his feet. “For well over four thousand years we have fought side by side, Sindar and Silvan, together we have shed blood and died in defense of this realm. We are adjourned until such time as I have prepared my decree.” Turning away from the table, he strode purposefully from the council chambers.

“Thalieth.” He stated quietly but clearly as he continued his brisk stride across the wide expanse of the antechamber. “Would you please let Galion know that I would prefer to have my meal in my chambers?”

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). The guard relied and quickly disappeared in to the rooms shared by the guards that rotated the duty of keeping watch over the kings’ private area.

Entering his private chambers Thranduil sighed deeply as he quickly unfastened the suddenly tight and restrictive collar of his formal robes. Shedding the outer garment, he tossed it haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs at the small table as he walked toward his wine cupboard. He struggled to clear his mind as he poured himself an ample portion of the dark red Dorwinion wine. Taking a long drink, he refilled it before setting the carafe back on the shelf and turning toward the hearth.

“Tauriel!” He exclaimed as he caught sight of her curled up in one of the tall wing backed chairs, his stride quickening toward her.

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” She said, quickly rinse to her feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with her plan to surprise him. “I should not have come.”

“Nonsense.” He told her as he set the goblet on the low table before the hearth. “If I had any concerns of you intruding on anything, I would not have shown you the passage. No secrets, remember.” He added, pulling her into his arms.

“Goheno nin.” (I’m sorry/forgive me). She said quietly, snuggling closer to him as she slipped her arms around his slender waist.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He told her as he leaned down, breathing in the comforting aroma of the lavender and lilac that clung to her has he kissed her forehead.

It was a bit unsettling as he was not accustomed to anyone being in his rooms without him being present. Even Galion limited his comings and goings in such a manner that he usually knew when he would be there. Unless summoned, he mostly arrived to take care of what he believed to be his duties. Things Thranduil was quite capable of doing for himself yet he humored his old friend and allowed him to fuss over him for the most part.

“You seem so tense.” She said quietly as she hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest. “I take it the council meeting did not go well?” She asked, enjoying the feel of his arms around her.

“You know I cannot talk about it.” He told her as he pulled back slightly to look at her. “But yes.” He chuckled softly at the slight frown on her face. “They can be difficult to deal with at times.”

“I know.” She said quietly, although her frown deepened as she pressed her face against his chest.

“I need you so much!” She exclaimed silently to him as she hugged him tighter, the ache deep within her growing as the scent of him filling her senses.

The stolen kiss in the meditation room had ignited a fire within her than threatened to consume her. It seemed so long ago that she had felt the slight tremble in his lips when they first touched her own, only to turn hungry as he crushed her to him in a lovers embrace. She yearned for his strong yet gentle touch, to be able to surrender herself so completely to him as he took her. The faint scent of him still lingered within her rooms, filling her with a deep need to be near him, to be in his comforting arms.

“Galion should be here shortly.” He said quietly, pulling away from her slightly to hide his growing desire for her. “Will you join me? You know he always brings more food than I could eat even if I wanted.” He chuckled to lighten the mood between them.

“Of course.” She said quietly, smiling up at him as she reluctantly released him, sensing a slight discomfort within him.

Chiding himself for his lack of control, Thranduil struggled regain his composure as he turned away from her to retrieve the goblet. Taking a long drink, he futilely willed himself to relax yet the slight chill where the warmth of her body had pressed so tightly against his own made the task nearly impossible. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to sweep her away to his bed and lose himself in her pleasures.

“Go!” He stated in a hushed tone at the sound of soft knock, pointing toward the more private sitting room. “I will come to you soon.”

“Come.” He called out as she disappeared into the darkened room that divided his public sitting room and his bed chamber.

“Since when do I need permission to speak with my own Adar?” (Father) Legolas demanded, his tone as respectful as possible under the circumstances, his gaze scanning the room quickly as he strode purposefully into the sitting room. 

“It is good to see you too ion nîn (my son).” Thranduil stated, schooling his expression yet his narrowed eyes reflected his displeasure at his sons’ lack of manners.

“Your council meeting ran longer than usual today.” Legolas stated as he approached his father, his gaze flickered toward the door of his bed chamber as he noted his disheveled state.

“I had not noticed.” Thranduil commented as he lifted the goblet to his lips again, watching his son from over the rim. “Please...” He waved his hand toward one of the chairs before the hearth. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He added as he sank down into the chair previously occupied by Tauriel.

“I have been informed that Tauriel will be returning to the patrols as their commander.” Legolas stated, nodding slightly toward him as he took the chair opposite him.

“Yes.” Thranduil stated quite pointedly. “She has proven herself as an exceptional captain. She is more than up to the task. Don’t you think?” He asked, knowing full well the question would be more than unsettling to him. 

“She is more than capable, but there are still things she needs to learn.” Legolas replied, his gaze returning briefly to the soft ember glow emanating from the bed chamber.

“You too had much to learn.” Thranduil said quietly, unable to hide the slight smile that curled the corners of his lips as he watched the play of expression chase themselves across his sons’ face. “Eluandúnië will teach her just as Aldalómë taught you.”

“I would like accompany her.” Legolas stated firmly, yet mindful of his tone as he returned the same studying gaze of his father.

“With Elvändéruil as her lieutenant, I am sure she will be fine ion nîn (my son). He told him as he relaxed more comfortably in the chair. “If you have changed your mind, there are other duties that will require more of your attention.” He added, his tone becoming slightly more official.

“Come.” Thranduil called out as Thalieth knocked lightly on the door, his gaze never leaving the face of his son.

“Just set it on the table Galion.” He stated as he continued to watch his son. “Thank you.”

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). Galion stated with a nod, sensing the weight of the tension in the room, he quickly did as he was bid and departed.

“You are my son first.” Thranduil began quietly, choosing his words carefully. “But you are also the Prince and heir to the throne of this realm. I have allowed you your youthful freedoms far longer than I...”

“Is that why you have abolished the oath?” Legolas interrupted him, finally turning to meet his fathers’ unreadable gaze. “Is that why you brought Tauriel back?” He continued, his tone was dry, almost accusatory as he continued to stare at him.

“It was you who banished her in the first place.” He continued in the face of his fathers’ stony silence.

“You forced my hand in this Legolas.” Thranduil stated, his tone was cold even to his own ears. “I never thought she would fall in love with a dwarf or that you would choose to abandon me. You have set things in motion that cannot be changed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	17. Plans & Plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduils’ love for Tauriel grows deeper as he discovers more of her secrets. While unbeknownst to him, the ladies of his council and court are not only protecting him, they are playing match-maker as well. Yet the darkness still looms far closer to home as Ráerû learns the identity of the tall dark elf in Lake Town.

Long after his son had left his chambers, Thranduil continued to stare unseeing into the glowing embers of the hearth. His thoughts took him back to another place and time when he too was a different person, with no desire to sit on the throne. Even then he had sensed the subtle shifting and somehow knew that he would be forced live to see the world change around him. Perhaps he had been far too lenient with his son, overly indulging him as some of his advisors liked to point out to him from time to time. Yet he had no regrets as dark memories of his father intruded unbidden upon his thoughts.

“Our experiences do influence how we think, but they do not define who we are meant to be.” Elronds’ words from long ago filtered through the painful memories of his own youth.

Although he refused to accept it, in his heart Thranduil had known for a long time that Legolas would never sit on the throne. Impetuous like his grandfather, he was too quick to react yet far too much like his mother, with a gentle fäë (soul) that could be easily manipulated by those who would seek to control the crown. Over the years he had seen through the different plots and schemes to undermine him, to sway him from his goals. He had rebuilt this kingdom after the death of his father and he would continue to see it through, with or without his son.

A soft smile curled his lips as his thoughts now turned to more pleasurable things. The visible signs of his desire had abated, he felt the stirrings returning as he pushed himself up from the chair. He sensed that Legolas knew something was amiss between him and Tauriel, it was only the combined handiwork of Laurefindë and Gilaiwë that continued to muddy the rumors to shield him from any outright suspicion at this point.

Entering his private sitting room, he went straight to the wood framed tapestry on the far wall. Lifting the tiny lever, the door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Pulling it closed behind him, he listened for the faint click that told him it was secure before making his way through the narrow passage upward to Tauriels’ rooms. Slipping silently into the small parlor he paused to listen for signs of a possible visitor before stepping out into the larger expanse of her public sitting room.

His smile broadened as he caught sight of her, curled up asleep in one of the chairs before the hearth. A small leather bound book lay open on its pages where it had fallen from her grasp. Kneeling before her, he picked it up, frowning slightly as a small slip of parchment and a dried flower fell from between the pages. Picking up the folded piece of parchment, he recognized his handwriting, his gaze immediately dropped to the Länciföliûm.

“You kept them.” He thought in amazement as he looked up at her sleeping face, he felt his heart swell almost painfully.

Carefully placing them between the pages of the book, he closed it and laid it on the small table beside her. He had forced her to agree that there would be no secrets between them but this was different, these were her private things and he would not take them from her. For long moments he knelt there, admiring her, seeing her not only for her beauty. He knew it had been as much her strong willed and determined nature that had drawn him to her long ago.

“Thranduil!” She gasped, her eyes fluttering open as she sat straight up. “I...”

“Shh.” He silenced her as he quickly leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss. Slipping his arms around her, he pulled her close, treasuring the feel of her body as she molded herself against him.

“It was not my intention to make you wait so long.” He whispered softly, burying his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her as his arms tightened around her. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked quietly, smoothing his silken hair as a mother would comfort a child.

“We must be more careful.” He told her as he reluctantly pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “I do not think he knows anything for sure but Legolas has his suspicions about us and it is too soon.”

“How?!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening as she stared back him, impulsively reaching up to caress his face.

“There are those who read into things.” He said quietly as he reached up, tucking a few stray tendrils of her hair behind her ears. “A subtle glance, a smile, different things can be turned into so much more by those prone to gossip.” He sighed heavily.

“I do not want to think of those things right now.” He stated as he gathered her into his arms, a broad smile stretching his lips at the sound of her soft laughter as she buried her face in his neck.

Clinging to him as he strode purposefully toward her bed chamber, Tauriel could not resist the urge to tease him. Enjoying the feel of the slight tremble that went through him, she playfully traced the tip of her tongue along the outer edge of his ear. Laughing softly as she heard his soft groan, she gently sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

“I dhû hen and pen neth nîn.” (You are in for a long night my young one) He growled deeply, the sparkle in his eyes belying the implied threat in his tone as he fell onto the bed, pinioning her beneath him.

Surrendering to the hungry mouth that now possessed her own, she slipped her hands beneath the soft silk of his tunic, raking her nails teasingly over the sensitive flesh along his sides just above his hips. Smiling to herself as she felt him shiver then stiffen slightly, his tongue thrust deeper into her mouth as he struggled to ignore it. Tugging impatiently at the laces of his leggings, she felt the subtle vibration in his chest as he tried to stifle his laughter.

Groaning softly as he felt her hands sliding between his flesh and the silk of his leggings, arching back slightly his breath hissed between his clenched teeth as her gentle fingers found the crown of his now achingly swollen sex. Trembling, he pressed his cheek tightly against hers as she grasped his erection, teasing the tiny slit with her thumb as she spread his arousal fluids over the sensitive crown.

“Tauriel.” He groaned in her ear, his voice sounding more like a soft caress as he clung to her, his body stiffening as she brought him close yet denied him release. Suckling her earlobe as she continued to touch and tease him, trailing her fingers over his flesh grasping his backside as she arched her hips forward against him.

Breathless and impatient, their mouths locked together in a hungry kiss as searching hands touched and teased each other. Nimble fingers making quick work of stripping away the last shreds of their clothing that now lay rumpled beneath their tangled bodies.

Once more, he seemed to know just where and how to touch her that would ignite the fire within her. Warm lips placed soft teasing kisses across her shoulders, pausing at the hollow of the base of her neck. Gentle teasing fingers roamed over her skin, tracing teasing patterns across her stomach and thighs. Threading her fingers in his hair as he trailed his kisses lower, nuzzling between her legs. Only the tip of his warm tongue teasing the tiny nub at the apex of her sex, sending shivers through her as she struggled to press herself tighter against him.

Smiling to himself, he watched her as he pursed his lips around it, gently sucking it from within its protective sheath as he continued to flick his tongue over it. Ignoring his own aching need for release, he did not want to cause her pain. He knew it would be easier for her to accept its girth once her own release had relaxed her muscles a little. Flinching slightly as her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, he pressed harder against her as her body, tasting the sweet nectar of her arousal.

“No!” She gasped breathlessly as she arched her back, pulling away from him. “Together.” She breathed as he looked up at her, startled for a moment.

“Tauriel?” He whispered her name, his breath heavy with a mixture of desire and concern as he moved up over her, his gaze studied her curiously as he cradled her in his arms.

“Please, I need to look in your eyes.” She said softly, her lips brushing his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I need to see it in your eyes.”

Capturing her mouth in a searching yet gentle kiss, he slipped one arm between them as he used his knee to part her thighs a little further. Hesitant to cause her discomfort or pain, yet unable to deny her, he guided himself toward her, rubbing the crown teasingly as he mingled their fluids. Frowning inwardly, he pushed slowly forward into her tight warm sheath as he swallowed her soft whimper.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“The damned fool Tulcë has all but pledged Cäthdéirÿn to Tirithiáël’s eldest that’s what!” Lady Presráë exclaimed as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair before the hearth, her normally bright blue eyes darkening with her anger.

“How do you know this?” Her husband, Lord Arthädión asked, a deep frown forming on his brow as he looked up from his goblet.

“Malinaloxë is beside herself with the fact that Thalión is even considering Tirithiáëls’ offer for the hand of Cëänielóra to his second son.” Lady Presráë complained, her eyes narrowing slightly at her husband. “I do not trust him. I know he is up to something, I can feel it. He only has that seat on the council because he was his fathers’ heir.” She reminded him, her tone much softer at the memory of their dear friend.

“Do you not see what he is doing?” She asked, her brows rising as she stared at her husband who remained silent.

“He has always been a bit of an arrogant one.” Lord Arthädión said quietly, almost to himself as he turned his gaze toward the hearth. “I have no doubts this is has been on Thranduils’ mind for quite some time. The Prince is well past the years when most have already taken a wife and his interest in the young captain has never been a secret. You know as well as I that he is loath to go the way of an arranged marriage for his only child.” He added as he turned back to smile softly at his wife.

“A pompous arse if you ask me but then I never favored Oropher’s heavy handed manner of ruling.” Lady Presráë commented, pausing to sip her tea. “Garävegión and Laurefindë were right to advise him to send Thranduil to Lórinand...”

“We will not discuss that Presráë.” Her husband stated quietly but firmly. “Those were dark times for Thranduil. He has done well for the realm since the passing of his father and we are better for it. I am actually surprised it took him so long to abandon that mockery of an oath.”

“None of us expected Athëálÿssíä to just up and leave him and her little son the way she did!” Lady Presráë exclaimed, her eyes widening at her husband. “Had she stayed by his side and perhaps had more children, we would not be in this predicament. Eru (God) only knows why he has not considered marriage again for himself, the two never bonded.”

“It is difficult to say.” Lord Arthädión sighed heavily. “She was never truly happy here. I know of no one that has caught his attention over the years save the Lady Gilaiwë. Even then I fear it would have been little more than a mere arrangement to satisfy the oath. Ever since he was but an elfling, Thranduils’ heart has always belonged to realm.”

“There has been talk...”

“You know how I feel about that Presráë.” Lord Arthädión interrupted her firmly yet he smiled softly at his wife. “There is always talk but much of it is just palace gossip and not to be taken seriously.”

“Ordinarily I would agree with you.” She commented, her soft gray blue eyes sparkling as she leaned forward to pick up the small teapot to refill her cup.

“Ordinarily?” He asked as he arched a brow at her, deciding to humor her a little.

“He reminds me a little of you in your younger days.” Presráë said quietly, smiling warmly at her husband. “Personally taking it upon himself to retrieve the young captain. Quite romantic do you not agree?”

“I have to admit it did raise quite a few eyebrows.” Arthädión commented, returning his wife’s warm smile. “But I hardly think that is the case since he has appointed her as commander of the patrols. It would seem more appropriate that he would want to protect her rather than put her in harm’s way.”

“Really dear.” She chuckled as she dipped a bit of honey into her tea. “I personally think they would be perfect together.”

“Presráë.” Arthädión sighed, frowning as he tilted his head in that warning manner she knew all too well.

“She is the only elleth (elf maiden) with enough backbone to stand up to him.” She continued, deciding to ignore her husbands’ prudishness.

“Stand up to him?!” Arthädión exclaimed as he turned his full attention to his wife. “You say that as if he’s some kind of overbearing...”

“Quite the contrary.” She stated, yet unflustered as she interrupted him. “Thranduil lives too much in the past. His heart is too heavy, he needs someone strong enough to remind him that there is still love in this world.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

For the fourth evening Ráerû sat quietly in an obscure corner of the Half Barrel Inn trying to ignore the stench of unwashed bodies as he picked at his evening meal. Elvändéruil had warned him of the people still flooding into Erebor in hopes of sharing in the newly liberated hoard of gold within the mountain in spite of the sickness that had spread so rapidly. Making it much more difficult for the elven healers to get it under control much less stop it from spreading. Thankfully with the help of additional healers from Lord Fládëithnôr of the Grey Mountains they were able to figure out the right combination of herbs and other flora available within the region that they finally began to see solid improvements.

Wrinkling his nose at the half eaten plate of food, he was at least thankful that fish was the main course in most of the meals at the Inn. Like many Woodland elves, he was not in favor of the red meats and only ate fish but could tolerate ground fowl such as chicken or duck. Summoning a young girl he asked for another pot of the strong tea and more honey to properly sweeten the bitter brew.

It had taken him the better part of the first two days to clearly identify the two men Elvändéruil had told him about. Humans he quickly recognized as Northmen, what region of the north he could not tell as their dialect was unfamiliar to him. So far however, he had not seen anything of the tall dark haired elf they had supposedly been meeting. His only satisfaction was that they seemed to be just as impatient as he was for him to make another appearance.

Seated directly across from the only door available to the patrons, his eyes continued to glance about the large dining area in a triangular motion each time the door opened. With his head slightly bowed, his gaze flickering over the faces of those entering before turning toward the two men then scanning the still crowded room to gauge their reactions. The hour had grown late and the majority of those remaining were enjoying the cheerful hearth as well as an overabundance of wine and ale for his personal preferences. Still, as loud as some of them were, their rowdiness was easily swayed with a stern glance from the grim face of the inn keeper.

Glancing up as the young girl brought him the requested pot of tea, he was able to catch a brief but clear view of the face of the dark haired elf as he passed directly beneath the glow of a small lantern just inside the door. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he recognized him.

“I would love more of those wonderful honey rolls if you don’t mind.” He said as casually as possible, forcing a sweet smile at her as he watched Ardara and Donagh rise from their seats.

“Certainly.” She replied, returning his smile and quickly scampered off to fetch them for him as he quickly turned his attention to the tea pot. From beneath the veil of his thick lashes, he watched as they followed him up the stairs to the rooms on the second floor.

“Oh dear! This does not bode well.” He thought to himself, the sick feeling in his stomach now twisting painfully as he spooned an ample portion of the honey into his cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this is as enjoyable to read as it is to write. Comments and reviews are always welcome!


	18. The Weight of the Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil moves forward with his plans to replace the hereditary oath with his own declaration. While in Lake Town, Ráerû not only discovers the identity of the tall dark haired elf that had eluded his friend Elvändéruil, he learns of their plans. Thranduil and Gilaiwë accidentally come upon a heated argument between Tauriel and Legolas, forcing Thranduil to accept the destiny he has always denied.

There was a subtle sense of unease in Thranduils’ public study as preparations were being made for certain invited guests for a special meeting. The ever present guards in the antechamber just beyond the doors had been instructed that no others were permitted entry. Galion had already seen to the wine cupboard, ensuring it was properly stocked according to the preferences he was aware of as well as a pot of the more favored cinnamon spiced tea hung on the hook near the coals in the glowing hearth. He also brought a small tray with more teacups and hand pies just in case the meeting ran longer than anticipated.

“Lord Fládëithnôr asked me to apologize for him.” Galion said quietly, pausing for a moment as he stepped closer to Thranduil’s desk. “He is with Lady Laûrläéthëe but said he would be here shortly.”

“Thank you Galion.” Thranduil said, smiling softly as he studied the concerned expression on the face of his longtime friend and confidante. “I will be preoccupied with official matters most of the day. Perhaps you can use this as a chance to spend some time with Minûiáliën. I am sure she would appreciate seeing you.”

“I just might do that.” Galion chuckled, nodding his head respectfully as he returned the soft smile. He allowed his gaze to linger for only a brief moment on the face of the one who was his king yet he was also the son he with whom he had never been blessed.

Thranduil felt a pang of sadness grip his heart as he watched him turn and stride gracefully from the study. He owed so much of who he was and what he had become to the older Silvan elf who had always been there for him, reassuring him during the dark times of his childhood. He had even stood against his father om his behalf, risking everything to join him during his exile in Lórinand and faced down his father with him when they returned. Although he filled the role of a servant, he had always been and would always be so much more than that to him.

Blinking back the memories that threatened, he turned to meet the steady gaze of Gilaiwë. The slow smile and knowing look in her eyes was more than unsettling to him, but then like Galion, she had come to know him in ways no other could ever know.

“Do not be sad for him.” She said quietly, her gaze softening as she studied him. “He is proud of you. You have become everything he always dreamed you would be and more. He is happy for you Eshë.” (Note) She added softly.

“It is only...” Pausing as the door to the study opened, he quickly schooled his expression as he rose from his chair. “Laurefindë.” He greeted her with a smile as he walked around his desk toward her. “Thank you for being here on such short notice.” He said quietly as he embraced her briefly before gesturing toward one of the chairs before the hearth.

“I have a feeling this is not an informal meeting.” She stated as she glanced around the study, noting the additional chairs and the tray of food on the sideboard.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Lord Garävegión chuckled as he entered close behind her. “He did not say but the air about him was more solemn than is usual for Galion when he spoke with me earlier today.” He continued as he moved further into the room toward the tall wing backed chair closest to the corner of Thranduils’ desk yet still near the hearth.

“Tea or wine?” Laurefindë asked, arching a brow as she turned her attention toward Garävegión.

“Tea will be fine.” He replied with a smile before turning to nod his acknowledgment toward Gilaiwë.

“I believe I will have the Dorwinion wine.” Lord Fládëithnôr stated clearly, his deep voice filling the room, a wide grin lit up his handsome face as he strode purposefully into the study. “I hope I did not keep you waiting long.” He laughed as he embraced Thranduil in a strong hug. “I needed to catch Laûrläéthëe before she disappeared in the way young elleth’s (elf maiden) seem to do these days.” He added with a wink toward Laurefindë.

“When did you arrive?” Garävegión asked, his own expression brightening as he rose to greet his old friend.

“Late last night.” Fládëithnôr replied as they embraced. “I must say Thranduil, the hospitality of your halls is quite refreshing as usual.” He added, releasing Garävegión as he accepted the goblet from Laurefindë, nodding toward her.

“Gilaiwë.” He chuckled as he nodded toward her. “You are looking quite comfortable.” He said, noting not for the first time how childlike she appeared with her legs curled beneath her in the large chair.

Shaking his head as he moved around his desk to retake his seat, Thranduil could not help but smile at the friendly banter amongst them. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his hands on his lap as he waited patiently for them to move through the customary pleasantries and catch up with the goings on in their lives as was the way with old friends that have not seen one another for a while.

“Thalieth.” He called out quietly but firmly once they had all quieted and taken a seat.

“Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) The guard stated as he quickly appeared in the doorway.

“Close the door and see that no one lingers.” Thranduil stated, meeting the guards gaze evenly as he spoke.

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). Thalieth replied with a sharp formal nod before quickly closing the door.

“I have asked each of you here because of our shared past.” Thranduil said quietly as his gaze swept over their stoic faces. Yet he knew them all well enough to see the concern in their eyes as they studied him in return. “Of all those I have looked to for guidance, with the exception of two others, the four of you are all that remain of the time of my fathers’ rule.” He added, his fingers toying absently with the edges of the small pile of parchment on his desk.

“I will need all of you now more than I ever have in the past.” He stated, his gaze lingering for long moments on each of the silent faces that stared stoically back at him. “I have written out my personal concerns as to the future of this kingdom. I will not be dissuaded from what I know in my heart to be true. I will not allow myself to be separated from the people. If this kingdom is to be truly united as one, there can be no division between us.”

“Are you concerned for your safety?” Fládëithnôr asked, a deep frown creasing his smooth brow as he leaned forward. His ice blue eyes filled with concern as he stared at Thranduil in disbelief.

“I doubt very much my adversaries present any real threat to my person.” Thranduil stated as he laced his fingers together over the parchment. “What they oppose is the breaking of the oath which I believe to be the real threat to this kingdom.”

“How do you mean?” Garävegión asked, his expression mirroring that of Fládëithnôr as he studied the kings’ face.

“A very wise friend once told me that it is only by the will of those who serve that a king rules.” Thranduil said thoughtfully, hesitating a moment as he struggled with his memories of the past. “We can no longer ignore the threat that festers among us.” He paused, smiling at Laurefindë as he raised his hand to politely silence her. “Holding to the oath threatens every Sindar in line for the throne.” He stated firmly as he glanced between both Laurefindë and Garävegión.

“Yes.” Fládëithnôr said quietly, stretching out the word thoughtfully as his gaze turned inward for long moments. “Your insights serve you well.” He added, a slight smile curling his lips as he met the kings’ gaze approvingly.

“Now if you will all humor me, we will fully address these and any other concerns you may have before we conclude this meeting.” Thranduil stated as he gathered up the parchments and began handing them out to each of them. “I intend to present my final declaration at the next council meeting.” He continued as he resumed his seat behind his desk.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Grimacing slightly as he took a sip of the tea, Ráerû vowed he would make Elvändéruil pay for asking this favor of him. Even heavily masked with the honey it was still barely palatable for his personal preferences. Turning his attention to the plate in front of him, he was at least thankful the eggs were fully cooked and potatoes were not burnt. He made a mental note to himself to let Alythiyiá know how much he appreciated her cooking talents.

Bowing his head slightly as he caught sight of the two men emerging from the enclosed staircase, he watched them on the fringes of his vision as they found a table near him. Lifting his hand to summon the young girl as an excuse to get a better look at them and the dark haired elf who followed them. A slight frown creased his brow as the elf turned abruptly away from them and left the inn. Undeterred as he had clearly seen his face the previous evening, he knew it to be Lord Ortäuré, the eldest son of council member Lord Tirithiáël.

“Do you just happen to have any more of those delicious honey rolls?” He asked in his sweetest voice as the young girl hurried over to him.

“Of course!” She exclaimed, a big smile splitting her face. “We have them all the time.”

“Wonderful!” Ráerû stated as he touched her hand in a friendly gesture. “Could you bring a couple of them?” He asked, as he slid two coins toward her still watching the two men who sat at a table right behind her.

“Certainly! I will be right back.” She told him as she snatched up the coins and turned quickly away from him.

“Perfect.” He thought to himself as their voices carried easily to him as he pretended extreme interest in the fried potatoes on his plate.

“This deal is getting worse every time he shows up.” Ardara complained, his voice low enough to obscure it from other human ears as he lifted his arm to summon one of the young girls to their table.

“If the prince is in love with this she-elf like he says, killing her will...” Donagh began quietly.

“We aren’t killing anyone!” Ardara hissed through clenched teeth as he glared at him.

“Oh dear God! It’s Tauriel!” Ráerû thought, fear gripping his stomach as he forced a polite smile at the young girl who brought him the rolls he requested.

Sitting quietly, Ráerû pretended to enjoy his now quite tasteless breakfast as he listened as much to what they did not say as he did their complaining. While their odd dialect told him they were Northmen, he wondered once more of their homeland as it was clear to him they were more than familiar with Thranduil and feared him. Yet as they continued to talk between themselves, he realized their fear of Lord Ortäuré was great enough for them to follow his orders. Slowly as he listened, bits and pieces of his conversation with Elvändéruil came back to him, including much of the latest topic of the palace gossips.

The presence of Lord Ortäuré confirmed to him the rumors of the kings’ intentions regarding the hereditary oath were quite possibly true. Like many other Silvan elves, Ráerû found himself to be more than sympathetic toward the kings’ decision, the prince had never hidden the fact that he was in love Tauriel. Unlike what he had heard about his father, King Thranduil had ruled the kingdom out of a sense of duty. He never placed himself above any other elf regardless of their birth or status, a quality that had endeared him to the greater majority of those who dwelt in the Woodland Realm.

Finishing his meal, Ráerû paid no outward attention to the men as he walked toward the small group of healers that had just entered the inn. Most of the elves from the Grey Mountains had already returned home as well as a number of those from the Woodland Realm. Pausing briefly to discuss the current situation with the sickness and the progress they had made in getting it under control. He politely excused himself as he accepted a few personal notes they wanted him to give to their families, he quickly departed the inn.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“There is something you are not telling me mellon nîn.” (My friend) Gilaiwë said quietly as they followed well behind the others as they left his study. “Do not look at me that way.” She added a little more firmly as they turned toward passage leading to the solarium.

“I want to ask Tauriel for her hand.” Thranduil admitted, his voice was soft and thoughtful as he clasped his hands loosely behind his back. “Long ago I vowed I would not take a wife until my son was safely wedded and seated upon the throne.” He paused, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I have dallied too long in my decisions when it comes to my son as I have sought to spare him the pain of loss...”

Falling silent as Gilaiwë all but shoved him into the shadows as they entered the solarium, he frowned deeply at the hushed but angry voices that filtered to them from the far corner. Moving silently toward them, they stood beneath the tall ferns only a few yards away from the source.

“I do not understand.” Legolas all but demanded as he stepped closer to her. “With all my heart I am saddened for you, for your loss. But he is gone Tauriel. I am still here, I love you!” He stated, his eyes searching hers for something of the way she once looked at him.

“Yes, he is gone.” Tauriel stated angrily, folding her arms beneath her breasts as she met his gaze evenly yet guarding her expression. “Nothing is going to change that but knowing him has changed everything.”

“How can you say that?!” Legolas cried as he reached for her, dropping his arms as she stepped back from him.

“Because it is true!” She exclaimed, turning away from him. “If my love for you had been true I would not have felt what I did and still do for Kili.” She stated, lowering her voice somewhat.

“I love you Tauriel.” He stated as he stepped up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Please. Come with me. We can leave this place...”

“No Legolas!” She hissed angrily as she swung around to face him. “What you feel for me is not love...”

“Is it Elvändéruil?” He demanded more than asked, interrupting her as he glared at her. “You think I do not see it?! The way he hovers about, shadowing you everywhere you go.”

“And you do not do the same?!” She spat back him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I come here for the peace and solitude...”

“I am no fool Tauriel.” He said quietly, yet the gray clouds like a coming storm filled his soft blue eyes as he stared at her. “Is it my father? Do you come here to see him?” He spat angrily as he continued to stare at her. “Is that what you truly want Tauriel? To be nothing more than a pirá zan kurv (little elf whore) that warms his bed...”

“How dare you!” Tauriel nearly screamed as she struck him hard across his cheek.

It was only Gilaiwës’ sudden and painful grip on his fingers as she jerked him back that kept Thranduil from moving toward her. Anger stabbed at his heart as he watched his son raise his hand yet he did not strike back. Releasing a breath he had not realized he had been holding, he reluctantly stood there silently in the shadows. He could hear the sound of his heart thudding against his chest as he held tightly to Gilaiwës’ hand for support.

“You walked away from me remember.” Tauriel stated breathlessly as she struggled for control of her emotions. “You walked away from me, your father, you walked away from everything as if none of us mattered to you.” She continued, her tone growing angrier as she stepped closer to him as if to dare him to strike her.

Pulling him with her, Gilaiwë moved quickly down the narrow path toward the entrance of the solarium. Engrossed in their argument, she prayed they had not noticed their presence. Glancing angrily up at him as they walked swiftly into the cavernous space of the meditation room. She led him toward the waterfall in the far back corner where the splashing sounds would obscure their voices and they could speak more privately.

“You cannot interfere, you must respect her enough to allow her to handle this herself.” Gilaiwë told him firmly. “If she is to one day be your Queen, she needs to know that you have faith in her.”

“I know this yet all I want to do is protect her.” Thranduil sighed heavily as he sank down onto the small stone bench. “How could I have allowed it to come to this?” He asked quietly, more of himself than with any expectation of an answer as he stared off toward the path leading out of the meditation room.

“She cares for him yes, but she is not in love with him.” She said softly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I knew you were in love with her when you came to Lórinand to bring her home.” She said as he turned to look at her.

“What of my son?” He asked, his voice choked with pain as he dropped his gaze to the stone floor. “I have lost him.” His shoulders slumped as if a heavy weight had just descended upon him.

“You have always known the answer to that Thranduil. Your love for him blinds you to your destiny.” She told him quietly as she took his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. “Long ago Galadriel foretold that you will be the last king to sit upon the throne of the Woodland Realm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Eshë' is an informal term derived from 'Eshë nîn níëvé' a phrase that loosely translates to mean “my friend in the sense of a trusted ally who is also a lover yet not life mate” used between those with a long time relationship.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Comments are welcome!


	19. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unaware that Elvändéruil has already left the palace, Ráerû makes his way back from Lake Town to tell him what he has learned. Old feelings begin to stir within Thranduil as he senses the threat he has felt is growing stronger.

Adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag to a more comfortable position, Ráerû lifted his face slightly to catch the soft breeze as he gazed into the forest. The sights, sounds and smells of the forest were relaxing as the barge moved slowly up river toward the outpost, a much welcome difference to that of the inn and the hustle and bustle of the crowded wharf in Lake Town. An amused smile curled his lips as he watched two squirrels playfully chase each other up and around the wide girth of a walnut tree. He could see patches of color dotting the forest floor as more spring flowers began to bloom, spreading their petals toward the warm shafts of the early afternoon sun.

“A beautiful view is it not?” A deep but quiet voice interrupted his reverie, he stiffened slightly as he recognized it immediately.

“Yes it is hîr vuin. (My Lord) It is sad so many trees had to be removed during the thinning.” Ráerû replied, forcing a friendly smile as he turned toward Lord Ortäuré. “But I understand it was necessary to help the forest and make travel along the river safer.”

“You may forego the formalities.” Lord Ortäuré said quietly, turning his own gaze toward the forest but not before he paused a moment to meet the guarded expression on the healers face. “How are things with the sickness in Lake Town? I understand Lord Fládëithnôr has summoned his healers’ back to the Grey Mountains.” He asked, feigning interest as he continued to stare out into the forest yet he watched the young healer with caution.

“He has.” Ráerû replied quietly as he grasped the railing of the barge. “There are still many in the healing tents, mostly the older ones who are having the most difficulty recovering.”

“I find the timing of his withdrawal interesting as there still seems to be a steady flow of our own healers through Lake Town.” Lord Ortäuré commented almost absently. “I gives me cause for concern.”

“There is nothing to be concerned about. All we can do now is wait.” Ráerû stated, struggling to remain calm. “The medicines are working very well, the sickness has been contained. Some of our healers have been there since the beginning and their families look for word from them.”

“So you are playing messenger?” The lord asked pointedly as he turned, pinioning the young healer with a hard gaze.

“I guess you could say I drew the short straw.” Ráerû chuckled to hide his nervousness and shrugged as if it were no matter to him. “The king meets with Jôsidëáh regularly on the progress so he keeps sending one of us to collect the reports. I guess it was my turn to be the courier.”

“Yes, I see.” Lord Ortäuré said quietly, turning back to the view of the forest. “The king has expressed his concern for the welfare of the people and looks forward to things returning to normal.” He added, casting the young healer a smile that did not reach his eyes as he turned away from him and moved to the front of the barge.

“Normal?” He thought ironically to himself as he leaned forward, grasping the railing as if to steady himself, his thoughts turning to his father and the distressing situation at hand.

For centuries following the death of his mother, he had watched his fathers’ bitterness toward King Oropher brew and slowly consume him. Those same bitter feelings had turned to King Thranduil. Things were moving too fast and he was more than uncomfortable with his fathers’ sudden desire to actually sit on the throne. As did many among the elves of the Woodland Realm, he had once again begun to feel the shifting in the nature of things. The evil that had entrenched itself in Dol Guldur was growing, and much to his fathers’ chagrin, Thranduil now sought guidance more often from his Chief March Warden than he did from his council.

Orophers’ arrogance had been his weakness, dealing with Thranduil was different. He was far stronger in his convictions than any of them would have thought, controlling him had proven difficult if not impossible. While Oropher shunned others and sought only to retreat from the outside world, his son managed to protect the realm while forging alliances that would never have been possible under his father’s rule. Where his father held onto old biases, Thranduil spent centuries living in the forest amongst the Silvan elves before the death of his father and was considered by the majority to be one of them in heart and mind.

If Thranduil had a weakness, it was his son. Impetuous like his grandfather, the young princes’ recklessness in the wake of the Battle in the Shadow of the Lonely Mountain had set in motion the very thing his father feared most. His pale blue eyes darkened as he continued to gaze out into the forest, yet he saw none of it. Forsaking the hereditary oath would sever all Sindar ties to the throne, destroying any perceived notions his father may have had in attaining that goal. The fate of the young elleth (elf maiden) now lay in his hands and the weight of it burdened him to his very fäë (soul).

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You need to calm yourself.” Galion stated firmly, arching a brow at him as he refused to back down from the kings’ icy stare.

“Calm myself?!” Thranduil exclaimed, his long silvery blonde tresses flying about his shoulders as he turned on his heels to resume his pacing before the grand hearth in his private chambers. “I cannot! Damn it Galion, she has openly defied me!” He continued his rant, his thoughts quickly running through the reports he had received earlier from Captain Lárasarnë.

“You were still...”

“I do not care!” Thranduil nearly shouted, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room as he turned back toward him. “I believe I was quite clear. She was to report to me for instructions before she set out.” He stated angrily, ignoring the sardonic expression on Galions’ face as he only stared back at him, completely unperturbed by his ranting.

“Thranduil...”

“Something is afoot.” Thranduil stated, his gaze turning inward as he walked toward his wine cupboard. Ignoring the disapproving glance from Galion as he strode passed him. “I have felt it for quite some time. It has only grown stronger since our return from Erebor. The threat to this kingdom lies not beyond our southern borders of Emyn-nu-Orod, (Notes*) it is a sickness that has festered far too long within my own halls.”

“What are you talking about?” Galion asked, a deep frown creasing his brow as his calm façade began to crumble.

“I have yet to put a face to it.” Thranduil said quietly as he walked back to the hearth. “The spirit of the forest is restless and I fear it has little to do with the threat in Dol Guldur.” He added, his tone taking on an eerie sense of foreboding. 

“Thranduil?” Galion pressed him, concern now radiating from him as he stepped closer to him.

“You are right, I have been preoccupied.” Thranduil commented, his expression softening only somewhat as he turned to look at him. “But not so much that I am blinded to my adversaries.” He continued more firmly as he sank down into the comfort of his favorite chair.

“No.” He sighed heavily as he stared unseeing into the flames, his thoughts turning unbidden to the last time he had faced the Lord of Mordor. Visibly shaking himself, he took another drink from his goblet before turning back toward Galion.

“If I doubted her abilities I would not have appointed her to the position. She is quite capable of handling herself in the forest. I chose Elvändéruil and the guards specifically to protect her from those who would seek to harm me.” He added as he lifted the goblet to his lips, taking a longer drink this time.

“No one would be foolish enough...”

“To harm me?” Thranduil interrupted him, a slow knowing smile curled one corner of his lips as he arched a brow curiously at him. “Not my person, no.” He said quietly as he turned back to the flames. “I knew abandoning the oath would anger certain Sindar houses, those that still cling to the old ways. It would seem I have unwittingly stirred a nest of vipers. In my efforts to appease her I fear I have put her in danger.”

“What do we do now?” Galion asked quietly, concern etched deeply into his normally calm features as he watched the play of emotions chase themselves within the depths of the kings’ eyes.

“Find Lieutenant Vanyë. Tell him to report to me in my private study.” He stated, pushing himself up from the chair. “I have been tolerant too long.” He added as if to himself as he strode passed him toward the smaller entrance within his personal chambers to his private study.

Closing the door behind him, Thranduil paused briefly to gaze at the painting above the small hearth. A gift from Lord Fládëithnôr, he found a small degree of comfort in the soft smile and sapphire eyes of the face that was said to be that of his mother, Háleärgiliäth. The comfort he felt was short lived as the pain of the past, though dulled with time was always present as was the longing that would never be fulfilled for the mother of whom he had no memory.

Setting the goblet on the corner of his desk as he seated himself behind it and opened the side drawer to retrieve a sheet of parchment. Quickly penning his instructions to Aldalómë, he folded it neatly and sealed with his mark. Setting it aside, he gathered Captain Lárasarnë’s reports for further review as he waited for Lieutenant Vanyë.

“Come.” He stated, looking up from the report as Thalieth knocked softly on the door from the antechamber beyond his personal chambers.

“Lieutenant Vanyë is here to see you hîr vuin.” (My Lord) The guard informed him quietly as he nodded respectfully toward him.

“Send him in Thalieth.” He replied, laying the report aside as he leaned back in his chair.

“You wanted to see me hîr vuin?” (My Lord) Lieutenant Vanyë asked as the guard ushered him quickly into the small room.

“Yes, please, sit down.” Thranduil told him as he picked up his goblet, watching the officer as he took a long drink from it.

“Please, relax.” Thranduil added quietly as he set the goblet aside, smiling slightly in an attempt to help the young officer feel less threatened. “I understand you have only just returned from the outpost.” He continued as Vanyë cautiously lowered himself into the chair.

“Yes hîr vuin, (My Lord) two days ago.” Vanyë stated as he fidgeted slightly with the cuff of his uniform. “Myself and Lieutenant Tháëdrâs, we were with March Warden Macilvoronhûr in the south post.”

“I have received only one report.” Thranduil stated thoughtfully as he leaned forward, folding his arms on his desk. “The patrols have discovered several more of the traps. Captain Lárasarnë reports they appear to have been destroyed, I find this interesting.” He continued, mindful of his tone as he noted the stress on the young officers’ face and his stiff posture.

“Ayë hîr vuin (Yes my Lord), it is true they have.” Vanyë said anxiously, shifting slightly in the chair. “Chief March Warden Aldalómë was quite distressed about it but he did not explain. He pulled us out of the south, splitting the troops between the north and east outposts and will be returning to the palace himself, I presume within the next day or two at the latest. I am sure he will have a full report for you on his arrival.”

“And what about you?” Thranduil pressed him, allowing himself to smile a little more warmly at him.

“Hîr vuin?” (My Lord) Vanyë asked as his eyes widened slightly, unsure what the king was asking of him.

“What about you? Surely you have an opinion.” Thranduil stated, tilting his head slightly as he looked at him curiously.

“Well hîr vuin, (My Lord) may I speak freely?” He asked, swallowing against a suddenly very dry throat.

“Certainly, I would prefer it.” Thranduil told him, only mildly amused at the young officers’ obvious discomfort at being in his presence. “Contrary to what you may believe Vanyë, I value the opinions of all of my officers. Now please, relax. Tell me what you think.”

“Ayë hîr vuin.” (Yes my Lord) Vanyë replied, straightening his shoulders slightly as he leaned forward a little. “It is the manner they were destroyed.” He began, his tone only a little more confident. “These were not destroyed by an animal.” He stated more firmly, a frown creasing his brow as his gaze turned inward. “I have seen traps destroyed by the shelob (spiders), they are simply broken and scattered about. With these it was different. It is as if someone wanted to hide the fact that they were ever there.”

“This is very interesting.” Thranduil said quietly as he leaned back in his chair, his own thoughts turning to his years amongst the forest patrols. Most of those traps at that time were set closer to the eastern borders by Northmen and destroyed by Beorn and his people. Even then there was no care taken to hide the fact they were destroying them, if anything they wanted it to be known.

“You have done well Vanyë.” Thranduil stated, smiling warmly at the officer as he rose to his feet. “I had intended to ask you to deliver a message to Aldalómë. Since he will be here soon I do not see the need.”

“Thank you hîr vuin. (My Lord) Vanyë stated, his face beaming as he stood up. “Do you need anything else?” He asked quietly as he studied the kings’ face, not really sure why as there were only a few that could read his expressions.

“No, you may go.” He told him, smiling to himself as the young officer nodded respectfully and quickly made his exit.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Moving slowly toward the outpost at the Vale of the Forked Pass, the Patrol Commander and her guards paused only briefly at the watch posts as they encountered them. Their acceptance of her new position helped her relax somewhat as they continued toward the South Outpost. It was to be their first stop as they circled around heading north, stopping at the Center Outpost, then to the River Outpost in the far north near the Forest River. If all went well, they would be back at the palace in just over a weeks’ time. 

Although she was glad to be back in the forest, Tauriel found herself torn as she struggled to reconcile herself with the enormity of the changes that had befallen her life in less than a turning (year). Only last spring she had walked carefree beneath the boughs of these trees with Legolas, content to be nothing more than a Captain in the Patrols. However, that Tauriel seemed like someone else, a stranger to her as she deftly guided her mount through the meadow toward the darker, more densely overgrown part of the forest only a few leagues away.

Departing at first light from the stables had stirred the sweet memory of her first outing in the forest with Thranduil following her return to the Woodland Realm. He had been so relaxed and much more like the King she remembered from her childhood. She felt a slight heat creep into her cheeks as she recalled the feel of his fingers softly caressing her hip beneath the riding cloak and the feel of his warm breath on her cheek as he leaned closer to her.

Shaking herself mentally, her instincts taking over, her sharp eyes scanned the forest around her, noting the positions of her guards as they moved into a search formation. The gentle breeze carried with it the subtle yet distinct foul smell of what lay before them as they moved closer to the edge of the forest still heavily inhabited with shelob (spiders). The outpost itself lay only a half a league along the narrow path that now visible in the distance like the gaping mouth of a dark cave.

“The path has been widened enough for our mounts to travel side by side.” Elvändéruil said quietly as he guided his mount closer to her. “The larger shelob (spiders) and nests are farther south, mostly on the eastern foothills of the Emyn-nu-Orod. (Notes*) The smaller ones are less interested in larger groups, especially mounted patrols.”

“I still prefer being on foot.” She replied, turning her attention toward him. “I can move faster and hide more easily if it comes to that.”

“True.” He chuckled, yet his gaze remained focused on the thicker forest ahead of them. “They are necessary for this mission as we have too much ground to cover to do so on foot.”

“At least the thinning seems to have driven them back.” She sighed as Côrnäith and Gráthgör moved in front of them to lead the way into the forest while Häëmir and Tërÿani followed them onto the path.

They fell silent as they entered the eerie gloom of the thicker part of the forest, where the light of the sun never touched forest floor. The only sound to be heard was the soft thud of the horses’ hooves against the hard dirt path. The stench of decay wafted about them, seemingly from all directions as there was no breeze, only an unnatural shifting as if something moved passed them yet there was nothing.

Frowning deeply as Côrnäith held up his fist and pulled his mount to a halt in front her, Tauriel turned quickly to Elvändéruil who signaled for her to remain silent as he kneed his mount closer to Côrnäith.

“Something does not feel right.” He whispered, turned toward Elvändéruil. “It is too quiet and there is no smoke from the chimney.”

“They may just be out on patrol but we need to be careful.” Elvändéruil whispered and turned back toward Tauriel and the other two guards, giving them the signal to wait.

“No!” Tërÿani hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing the bridle of her mount as she started forward to follow them.

Glaring at him for a moment before turning to watch as the others crept cautiously forward into the small clearing surrounding the small wooden structure that served as an outpost for the forest patrols. The silence did seem more than strange as there was usually one or two team members that remained at the outpost to burn the Seccuia root in the hearth to keep the shelob (spiders) at bay. Shifting uncomfortably as they disappeared from her sight, Tauriel felt her stomach tighten as she stared toward the clearing.

“Run!”

Yanking on the bridle of her mount as he heard Elvändéruil’s scream, Tërÿani felt a sharp pain hit his shoulder then spread quickly down his back as he pulled hard on the reins of his mount. “Get down and move!” He yelled at her as he kicked his mount into a gallop back down the path.

“Damn it!” Häëmir cursed loudly as they drew their swords, facing off against three riders racing toward them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emyn-nu-Orod = Elven name for the Mirkwood Mountains  
> Seccuia = A bark covered root that releases a smell that is irritating to the shelob (spiders)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	20. Treason Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories haunt Thranduil as he struggles to untangle his feelings. Was he merely being overly protective of Tauriel or was there something else afoot within his fortress walls. Ambushed at the South Outpost, Tauriel flees with Tërÿani into the unprotected regions of the dark forest. Ráerû returns to the fortress only to discover that Elvändéruil has already departed and could be walking right into a trap.

“Thalieth.” Thranduil said quietly as he stepped into the antechamber just outside his study, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Send for Lieutenant Evárÿan and Warden Rínnänéth, I wish to speak with them.”

“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). The guard replied with a curt nod as he turned quickly away from him toward the guards’ chambers.

“Why would it take him two days?” He mused silently clasping his hands loosely behind him as he walked back into his study. Pausing before the small hearth, he recalled some of the details of his conversation with Lieutenant Vanyë as he stared down into the flames.

The Vale at the Forked Pass had always been their preferred mustering point as it was central to the patrol outposts and less than a days’ ride from the fortress. If there had been problems the lieutenant would have said something, a deep frown creased his brow as old memories haunted his thoughts. He had known each of the March Wardens his entire life, having served as their commander in the forest patrols and fought alongside them on the battlefield, he knew them as both friends and warriors. The closer relationship he had with Aldalómë during their youth was unsettling. He recognized Aldalómë’s silence for what it was and felt his anger rising once again.

“You wanted to see me?” Rínnänéth asked quietly from the open door, concerned as he caught the slight frown before Thranduil pulled down the familiar guarded expression that told him this was an official summons.

“Yes, come in, sit down.” Thranduil replied, quickly pulling himself into the present as turned toward him. “Leave the door open, I am expecting Evárÿan.” He added as he moved behind his desk.

“What is wrong?” Rínnänéth asked, his smile quickly replaced with a slight frown as he watched the king sink down into his chair as if the weight of Arda (the world) sat upon his shoulders.

“I just spoke with Lieutenant Vanyë.” Thranduil sighed, regarding his friends expression with mild curiosity. “He and Tháëdrâs returned two days ago. He also informed me Aldalómë pulled Macilvoronhûr from the south and sent him east. He also sent most of his own forces to join with Eluandúnië in the northeast and was supposed to return here, yet I have not seen him.”

“Aldalómë was set up only ten or so leagues north of the vale.” Rínnänéth said quietly, a deep frown furrowed his brow as he struggled with just how much to tell him. “I’m sure he has a reasonable explanation.”

“Yes, I am sure he does, yet I am uncomfortable with his decision to pull our forces from the southern borders.” Thranduil stated, pausing briefly to motion Lieutenant Evárÿan to enter. “Come in Evárÿan.” He added, a soft smile curling his lips yet it did nothing to soften his guarded expression.

“The Patrol Commander departed this morning and should reach the North River Outpost by nightfall. They are to be arriving at the South Outpost by the end of the week. I am sure you understand my position.” He continued, pinioning Rínnänéth with a hard stare as he finished.

“Glaurhalbër is still garrisoned just southwest of Esgaroth.” Thranduil continued, reaching for his side drawer to retrieve a piece of parchment. “I want the two of you to depart as soon as you can prepare yourselves and deliver these instructions.” He stated as he began quickly penning his orders in his recognizable bold handwriting.

“You will take most of his forces and travel to the South Outpost from Esgaroth, and tell no one you are leaving or where you are going.” He said, his gaze flickered between the two of them as he folded the parchment and marked it with his seal. “You will wait there until the Commander has arrived and return with them.” He added, meeting Rínnänéths’ curious gaze as he handed him the orders.

“Evárÿan.” Rínnänéth said quietly, turning toward the lieutenant. “Make yourself ready and meet me in the stables, we will depart from there.” He told him, his expression and tone of voice was a clear dismissal.

“Ben iest gîn.” (As you wish) Evárÿan replied, nodding respectfully. Glancing quickly toward the king before he turned on his heel and departed. He felt the slight tension between them as soon as he entered the study, the heaviness of unspoken words hung between them. The lifelong friendship amongst the king and his March Wardens was legendary throughout the kingdom and he was more than pleased to have been excused from the meeting.

“What is really going on?” Rínnänéth asked as the lieutenant closed the door behind him, his eyes pinioning Thranduil with a knowing gaze.

Thranduil chuckled softly yet his eyes narrowed as he met the gaze of his longtime friend. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he pushed himself up from behind his desk and walked toward his wine cupboard.

“I do not believe in coincidence.” He finally spoke, his tone was quiet as he turned back toward Rínnänéth, handing him a goblet as he took the seat opposite him in front of his desk. “I would much prefer not to be coddled.” He added, his tone was even as if he struggled with the anger that darkened his normally clear sapphire eyes.

“Coincidence?” Rínnänéth stated more than asked, his own gaze narrowing slightly as he met Thranduil’s unforgiving stare and wondered just how much he already knew.

“It is not just their presence that concerns me but the timing of these traps.” Thranduil said quietly, pausing to take a long swallow from his goblet. “Aldalómës’ silence is perplexing yet it suggests more to me than I presume he would prefer.” He continued, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Servant gossip is a double edged sword.”

“Thranduil...”

“Do not attempt to defend him Rínnänéth.” He warned, his tone deepening as he relaxed back in the chair. “He is not alone is his mistaken opinion my attentions have been divided. But I assure you, my responsibilities are first and foremost to this kingdom.”

“You know how he is.” Rínnänéth sighed, dropping his gaze to the dark liquid in his goblet. “I am not aware of all the details as I have not spoken with him directly.” He continued, looking up to meet the kings’ knowing gaze. “He has become convinced the purpose of these traps are not only to draw our forces away from the fortress, but out of the southern region as well.”

“Aldalómë did not order Macilvoronhûr to join Eluandúnië in the east. Vanyë was told this only because soldiers talk almost as freely amongst themselves as do servants.” He continued in the face of Thranduils’ stoney silence, his gaze darkening even more as he studied him. “Most of the forest patrols have been ordered north along the rivers. Our regular forces are mustering in the center of the forest and should converge in south by morning.” He stated, his shoulders slumping somewhat as he continued to meet Thranduil’s gaze.

“You think there is traitor amongst you?” Thranduil asked, his eyes widening notably.

“No.” He stated emphatically, shaking his head. “You obviously believe as do we, it is someone inside the fortress.” He told him pointedly. “Your decision to abandon the hereditary oath has caused quite a stir, only confirming Aldalómës’ fears, but we have yet to determine who it is.”

“I have my suspicions.” Thranduil said quietly, almost to himself. “Without proof I do not wish to risk showing my hand.”

“Proceed to Erebor and do as I have instructed.” He stated as he rose to his feet. “If we allow them to believe they have succeeded, their arrogance will be their downfall.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Her head jerked up as she heard Häëmir curse, Tauriel caught sight of the three riders coming down the path toward them.

“Stay close to me!” Tërÿani yelled over his shoulder as he abruptly turned his mount into the eerie darkness of the forest just beyond the path.

Gripping the saddle tighter with her thighs, she lowered herself down over the saddle, heedless of the long thorny vines that seemed to reach out after her with a will of their own. She could feel the sharp tips of the thorns tearing at her clothing and hair, only vaguely aware of the pain inflicted as they grabbed her, raking across the exposed skin of her hands and face. The sound of thundering hooves rang loudly in her ears as she drew closer to Tërÿani. Afraid to look back, she prayed Häëmir was close behind them.

The foul stench that swirled around them as if carried on breezes that brought no relief grew more intense as they hurled through the darkness. Clutching the reins, Tauriel blinked against the tears caused by the burning mist as she struggled to keep up with Tërÿani. Her stomach twisted painfully with the fear that threatened to overcome her, fear for herself yet more for what may have befallen the others back at the outpost.

Suddenly a sharp burning pain in her left side caused her to cry out, slightly losing her grip on the saddle. Gasping for breath as she laid herself flat against the saddle, clinging to the grips on the battle harness Thranduil had insisted they use. Intuitively herding animals as well as trained battle steeds, she pressed her face into the thickness of his mane as she struggled to absorb the pain, knowing her mount would instinctively follow Tërÿani. The sounds of the screams grew distant as they raced further into the dark gloom of the unprotected regions of the forest.

Swinging with all of his might, Elvändéruil sliced through leather breastplate as the tall sandy haired Northman emerged from around the corner of the wooden structure. Spinning from the force of his blow, he turned toward the sound of clashing swords as two smaller but stealthier men swung their blades at Côrnäith, driving him back toward the small stable. Glancing only briefly at the slow moving Gráthgör on the ground as his mount kicked ferociously at the Northman still trying to get to him.

“Run!” He screamed as he raced to aid Côrnäith.

Charging forward as one of the men turned toward the sound of his scream, he swung in an upward arc, deflecting the main force of the blow as the man moved toward him. Letting his momentum carry him, he gripped the hilt tighter as he spun around, dragging his sword across the man’s stomach, just below the leather breast plate.

Far more agile than the tall Northman, Côrnäith grinned at his attacker as he dropped and rolled out of his reach, bringing his blade upward. Feeling the resistance against the edge of his sword, he knew he had connected against the breastplate. The longer sword swung downward, the tip catching enough of his shoulder that he danced back awkwardly from the pain. A bright crimson stream stained the length of his upper arm as he got his footing and turned to face his attacker. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he swung with everything left in him as the man lunged for him, slicing through his neck, taking off his head.

“See to Gráthgör.” Elvändéruil ordered as he turned his attention to the injured Northman laying just outside the door to the outpost.

“Who are you?” He demanded, leveling the point of his blade at his neck as he kicked his sword out of his reach. “I asked you a question.” He stated, lowering his blade against the flesh of his neck.

“I will tell you nothing.” The man stated, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and upper chest where the elf’s sword had managed to cut through his leather armor.

“We shall see.” Elvändéruil told him, a sardonic smile curling his lips, turning his normally soft features into an evil mask. “King Thranduil will have many questions and you will answer them, I assure you death will not come quickly for you.”

“He will be alright.” Côrnäith said quietly as he approached him. “But we cannot move until we have tended ourselves.” He added, nodding toward the growing dark stain on Elvändéruil’s upper arm.

“Guard him.” Elvändéruil replied as he turned to scan the clearing for their mounts, only now beginning to feel the pain of his injury.

Moving quickly, he gathered them together and herded them into the small stable attached to the side of the main structure of the outpost. Collecting only his saddlebag and the ropes from each of the others, he returned to where he had left Côrnäith.

“Let’s get him inside.” He stated as he dropped the saddlebag and slipped the rope over his arm, hanging it from his shoulder.

“Damn it!” Côrnäith cursed as the man struggled against them. Tired and in pain, his patience was thread bare, without thinking he drew back and punched the man squarely in his jaw.

Shaking his head, Elvändéruil slipped his good arm under one of the now unconscious mans’ and helped Côrnäith drag him toward the door of the outpost.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“I’m sorry Ráerû.” Táëglÿn said quietly, frowning slightly as he noted the agitated state of the young healer. “Elvändéruil departed quite early this morning and Lady Laurefindë is in a meeting with Lord Garävegión. Is this something I can help you with?”

“No, no.” Ráerû stuttered as he wrung his hands, his thoughts raced through his mind. “Thank you Táëglÿn, it can wait.” He said, forcing a smile as he turned quickly away from the door.

“Oh Eru!” (God) He exclaimed silently to himself as he paused briefly, leaning against the wall a short distance from Lady Laurefindë’s private chambers.

“Galion!” He thought almost excitedly as he pushed himself away from the wall. “Galion will know what to do!” He reassured himself as he struggled to keep from running through the corridors to the lower levels of the fortress.

“Daro!” (Stop) Thalieth ordered as the young healer nearly flew down the stairs leading into the large antechamber of the private rooms of the Royal House of the Woodland Realm.

“I need to speak with Galion!” Ráerû blurted spinning around to face him, his eyes wide as the guard approached him.

“He is with the king.” Thalieth informed him quietly, guarding his tone as he noted the color drain from the healers face. “Let me see if he can speak with you.”

Gulping passed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, Ráerû could only nod as he stood there clinging to the banister post to steady himself. Watching nervously as the guard turned away from him and walked into the small alcove leading to the main door of the kings’ private chambers.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing!” He thought anxiously to himself as he closed his eyes, sending up a small prayer that Elvändéruil would understand and forgive him.

“Who?” Galion asked curiously as he entered the antechamber. “Ráerû!” He exclaimed as he caught sight of the clearly overly distraught healer. “What is the matter?” He asked, his tone full of concern as he hurried toward him.

“I must speak with you.” He stated, his gaze flickered quickly over Galion’s shoulder at the guard. “In private, now.” He added, turning his attention back to the kings’ personal attendant.

“What in Arda! (The world) Galion thought to himself as he wrapped his arm around the healers shoulder, guiding him down the short corridor to his private chambers. “Calm down Ráerû, it’s going to be alright.” He told him reassuringly, while struggling to convince himself.

“I don’t know what to do! You have to help me!” Ráerû exclaimed as soon as the door closed behind them. “Elvändéruil was right! It’s Lord Ortäuré! Tauriel is in danger! Maybe the king himself!” He blurted, running all of his words together as he struggled to even breathe.

“What!” Galion exclaimed, grabbing him by his shoulders as he resisted the urge to shake him. “Explain yourself!” He demanded, pinioning him with a hard stare.

“Lord Elvändéruil...” He swallowed again as his throat constricted, his voice trembling as he stared wide eyed into the darkening angry green eyes. “There is a plot against the king and they are going to use Tauriel...”

“You have to tell Thranduil everything.” Galion stated, his tone unusually calm to his own ears as he grabbed the healers hand and hauled him out of his rooms.

“I don’t need an announcement!” He exclaimed, almost glaring at Thalieth as he ran passed him toward the doors of Thranduil’s chambers, dragging the stiff and trembling healer behind him.

“You tell him everything!” Galion ordered as he all but slammed the door behind them.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Thranduil exclaimed, frowning as he turned sharply toward the sudden and unexpected intrusion.

“Galion?” He asked, concern spreading quickly over his features as his gaze flickered quickly between the angry face of his friend and the obviously frightened young ellyn (male elf) being literally dragged toward him.

Staring wide eyed at the king, Ráerû stammered nervously, again running his words so close together as he struggled to get everything out all at once.

“Ráerû I believe, right?” Thranduil said quietly as he approached them, speaking softly to the young healer as if he were one of the little elflings in his ward. “Relax.” He told him, smiling warmly as he took his hands in his own.

“Get him some wine.” He added, glancing quickly at Galion before leading the young healer toward one of the chairs in front of the hearth.

“Everything is going alright.” Thranduil continued as he pulled the padded foot bench closer to him. “Now start from the beginning.” He told him, rubbing his trembling hands as he lowered himself onto the foot bench.

“No it’s not going to be alright!” Ráerû exclaimed as he stared into the concerned face of the king. “We might be too late!”

“Too late for what?” Thranduil asked, pulling on centuries of practice at guarding his feelings as he struggled to appear calm while his inside twisted in knots.

“Here, drink this. It will calm you.” Galion stated as he handed him a goblet of wine.

“Easy.” Thranduil told him, taking control of the goblet when it became apparent the young healer intended to drink the entire contents.

“The beginning, right.” Ráerû said nervously, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as the king handed the goblet back to Galion.

Slowly, as the strong Dorwinion wine warmed his belly, he began to relate everything he could remember from the conversation he had with Elvändéruil in his mothers’ chambers. His voice began to tremble as he spoke of catching a glimpse of the one his friend had called the dark elf, yet he felt comforted as the king continued to smile at him and gently squeeze his hand reassuringly. He told him about the plan he overheard between the two Northman at the next morning at the inn.

“You will tell no one else of this, do you understand?” Thranduil told him, his anger making his tone sharper than he intended.

“Never! Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) Ráerû blurted, his eyes widening once more.

“Go to the stables, tell Rínnänéth to wait for me. Tell him nothing more.” Thranduil stated, turning his attention to Galion as he rose to his feet. “You have done well Ráerû.” He added as he looked back at the young healer. “I will take care of this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Many apologies for taking so long with this chapter! Sometimes life has a way of interrupting our plans for one, and second, I’m not experienced in writing fighting or battle scenes! So this was very interesting for me, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> As always, comments are welcome!


	21. Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his suspicions were confirmed as to the plot against Tauriel, Thranduil pulls his garrisoned forces from Erebor and heads south to rescue her. Unable to locate the Prince, Lord Garävegión finds himself as Regent of the Woodland Realm and learns the identity of the mastermind behind the plot against the crown. Aldalómë is forced to accept the reality that his love for Thranduil will forever remain unrequited.

“ _Hîr vuin_?” (My Lord)  Captain Lárasarnë said quietly, frowning as he reached the kings’ public study to find his Chief Advisor seated behind the desk instead.

“The king had urgent business with the Chief March Warden.”  Lord Garävegión stated, looking up from the papers on the desk.  “What is it?”  He asked as he rose to his feet, noting the strange expression on the captain’s face.

“I am afraid I do not bring good news.”  Captain Lárasarnë stated, reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform as he approached him.

“What is this?”  Lord Garävegión asked, taking the note from his outstretched hand.  Unfolding it quickly, his eyes widened as he read the neatly penned words.  “Where did you get this?!”  He demanded even as he hurried passed him.  “Thalieth!”  He called out as he headed toward the door.

“ _Hîr vuin!_ ” (My Lord)  The guard exclaimed, nearly running into the lord as he quickly entered the study.

“Get Berÿlan and Lhôris in here now!”  Lord Garävegión ordered before turning back to the captain, pinioning him with an icy blue stare.  “Where did you get this?!”  He demanded again, shaking the note in his hand.

“Two of the patrols found him in the forest _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  He replied quietly, meeting the lord’s stare with great difficulty.  “He hung himself.”  He continued, his voice faltering slightly.  “I found it in his pocket.”

“Oh dear _Eru_! (God)” Lord Garävegión exclaimed, the color draining from his face.  “Does anyone else know?”  He asked, his sharp tone reflecting his struggle to control his anger.

“No _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Captain Lárasarnë replied quickly, shaking his head to emphasize the fact.  “No one but I and now you have read the note.  The two patrols have taken his body to the healers.  I have already instructed them to keep this matter to themselves.  But I am sure Jôsidëáh will come to you with questions.”  He added, studying the lords’ expression.

“Yes, I am sure he will.”  Lord Garävegión stated as he walked toward the wine cupboard, his thoughts tumbling over each other as he picked up the carafe.  “Who found him?”  He asked, filling a goblet with an ample amount as his thoughts turned to his own daughter Saélihn, who was also a member of the patrols.

“Lathläëril and Nînquië.”  Captain Lárasarnë said quietly, noting the agitated expression on the normally calm and composed lords’ face as he turned back toward him, taking a long drink from the goblet.  “I have ordered them to wait in Lathläëril’s rooms until I come for them.  They are quite distraught _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)

“I am sure they are.  It is a grievous decision to take ones’ own life.”  Lord Garävegión replied without looking at him as he returned to his seat behind the desk.  “I will speak to them personally once I conclude my business here.”  He said as he finally looked up at him.  “I need you to ride swiftly.  The king departed not more than a few hours ago for Glaurhalbër’s garrison just outside of Erebor.  He is with Rínnänéth and intends to join with Aldalómë and the others just south of the Center Outpost.  You find him and inform him of what has been discovered.  Tell him I will deal with this here.”

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord)  Captain Lárasarnë stated, nodding respectfully as he turned on his heel and departed.

Striding purposefully back to the stables, Captain Lárasarnë felt the apprehension twisting in his gut.  Although he had not provided him with many details, his brief discussion with Aldalómë told him enough to know that the Chief March Warden had seen through the attempt to mislead their forces to the northeast.  Everything suddenly made sense as his thoughts turned to Aûraë, assigned to Träëliôrns’ team, she would be in the thick of it if a battle should ensue.  In his mind he knew she was an excellent archer and more than capable of defending herself against most attackers, yet in his heart he wanted only to be there to protect her.  Still, the knowledge that these were human men and not _shelob_ (spiders) only intensified his concern for her safety.

There was no way of knowing just how far Lord Tirithiáëls’ reach went beyond the borders of the Woodland Realm.  Yet, somehow the king must have learned that Tauriel had not gone north as planned and now she was obviously in danger.  Understanding the urgency, Captain Lárasarnë quickly swung himself up into the saddle as soon as he reached his mount.  Laying himself as low as possible across the saddle, he kicked his mount into a full gallop as he passed through the large double doors of the stable.  

“You sent for us _hîr vuin_?” (My lord)  Lieutenant Lhôris asked cautiously as he and Lieutenant Berÿlan entered the kings’ public study.

“Come with me.”  Lord Garävegión stated firmly as he rose quickly from his chair, striding purposefully toward them.  The grim expression on his face stilled any further questions as he swept passed them, his robes flowing behind him.

Turning without hesitation, the two officers glanced quickly at each other as they followed him out of the study.  Word had spread quickly amongst the ranks that King Thranduil had departed the fortress dressed in full battle armor, joined by a select group of elite officers.  In the absence of a member of the royal house, as the kings’ Chief Advisor and senior member of the council, Lord Garävegión was now Regent of the Realm, acting with the full authority of the king.  Not a single word was spoken as they quickly made their way through the lower levels of the fortress, toward the halls reserved for nobility and visiting dignitaries.

Pausing a short distance from Lord Tirithiáëls’ rooms, Lord Garävegión narrowed his eyes as he glanced toward the shadowy alcove in the hallway.  Stepping slightly into the soft glow of the lanterns, Rhäiné met his gaze and nodded to let him know that the council member had not left his chambers.  He slipped back into the shadows once the lord had acknowledged his response.

Calmly approaching Lord Tirithiáëls’ rooms, Lord Garävegión knocked on the thick oaken door.  Still struggling with the anger that threatened to overtake him, he knocked once more and waited only a few minutes.

“You can open this door yourself or I will summon a locksmith.”  He stated clearly, pausing only briefly as he listened for any sign of movement within the council members rooms.

“What do you want at this hour?!”  Lord Tirithiáël demanded as he jerked the door open, glaring at the three faces that greeted him.

“You may come with me peacefully or I will have you hauled out in chains.”  Lord Garävegión stated, his nostrils flaring in his anger as he pushed his way inside.

“Do not be absurd!”  Lord Tirithiáël declared, turning away from them as they all but barged into his rooms.  “What is this meaning of this?!”  He continued angrily as he swung around to face them.

“Tirithiáël, as Regent of the Woodland Realm, I am here to inform you that you are officially charged with the crime of high treason against the crown.”

As quickly as the words left his lips, the two officers advanced on the council member with swords drawn.

“As I said.”  Lord Garävegión continued, far too angry to enjoy the moment.  “You can come peacefully or I will make a spectacle of you.”  His tone deepened as he watched the officers’ post themselves on either side of the council member.

“Do not dare touch me!  I have done nothing!”  Lord Tirithiáël exclaimed as the officers reached for him.  “You will answer for this Garävegión!”  He hissed angrily, shaking off the guards as he straightened his shoulders and walked toward the door.

“Take him to the dungeons and remain there until I personally relieve you.”  Lord Garävegión said quietly as he followed them out of the council members’ chambers.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Clenching her jaws tightly against the pain that threatened to overtake her, Tauriel struggled to hold onto to the vague awareness that told her she was no longer in the forest.  The dankness of the still air around her crept into her body, bringing with it a slight chill causing her to shiver.  Frowning slightly as a putrid odor assaulted her senses, she fought to open her eyes.  The hard surface beneath her felt cold, the chill in her body suddenly faded as a wave of burning heat coursed through her from somewhere within her.  Swallowing against a dry throat, she whimpered faintly as the darkness descended over her once more.

“You idiots!  I said she was not to be harmed!”  Lord Ortäuré hissed angrily as he stormed into the cave, his tall frame carrying him quickly toward the motionless _elleth_ (elf maiden) on the floor against the opposite wall.

“Get a lantern over here.”  He ordered, pulling out his dagger as he knelt beside her.  Frowning deeply as he felt her forehead and cheeks before turning to the slender shaft protruding from her side, not far below her armpit.  The heat from her body told him she was already fighting the wound sickness.

Anger, fear and concern battled themselves in his mind, his healing experience was limited to bandaging battlefield wounds under the watchful eye of a healer, he feared his skills would not be enough to save her.  He felt his anger washing over him as the light of the lantern revealed the large dark stain that had spread down her side and across her breasts.  Carefully feeling along the shaft, he recognized it as one of the Northmen’s and not an elvish arrow.  Buried deeply within her flesh, it was too dangerous to try snapping it for fear even a subtle movement would cause further damage.  Her barely audible yet raspy breaths told him the tip had injured her lung.

“Bring my pack and fresh water.”  He ordered as he began cutting through the thick silk of her uniform to expose the ugly entry wound.  Grimacing as he gently touched the hot flesh around the ragged edges of the still seeping wound that already showed signs of the wound sickness.

Dropping the pack and flask of water near them, Cadfael glanced at Donagh before backing away quickly as the dark haired elf shot him a brief but angry glare.  Nervously he watched as the elf grabbed what he needed from the pack and set about the task of wiping away as much of the dried blood as possible before slicing into her flesh with his dagger.  He felt his stomach turn as the elf slipped two fingers into the bleeding gash below her breast, feeling for the head of the arrow.  Fear gripped him as she gave no response to the elf’s searching fingers, his gut twisted painfully at the sucking sound as the elf gently guided the arrow head out of the wound.

“I think she’s dead.”  Cadfael whispered to Ardara once he reached the other side of the cave.

“I told you it was too dangerous!”  Ardara hissed, his eyes narrowed ominously as he turned toward him.

The small group of Northmen stood silently at the mouth of the cave, watching the dark elf as he cut away the tattered remnants of her uniform tunic.  Slowly, fear crept into all of them as they watched him, his deft fingers quickly covering the dampened cloth with dried herbs retrieved from his pack before pressing it tightly against the wound.  Huddling slightly closer together as they heard the soft sounds of the dark elf’s chanting, they looked at each other fearfully.

“I say we kill them both and get...”

Sharp gasps filled the thick air in the cave as they watched Uichiril’s head roll awkwardly toward the entrance of the cave.  The three remaining Northmen pressed themselves tightly against the hard rock wall, terror filled their faces in the dim light cast by the small fire in the center of the cave.

“Run if you think you can make it.”  Lord Ortäuré stated quietly, his tone colder than the north winds as he touched the point of his blood stained sword to Ardaras’ throat.  “If she dies, you die.  There will be no place in _Arda_ (the world) safe for you, I will find you.  Now get that out of here.”  He ordered, sheathing his sword as he turned away and walked back to finish wrapping the bandage around Tauriel’s upper torso to hold the compress in place.

“Set the lantern down and leave me.”  Lord Ortäuré said quietly, glancing quickly at Donagh as he stood up.

Scurrying away quickly, he glanced back over his shoulder as he reached the mouth of the cave.  Anxious, he turned away from him, peering into the darkness of the coming night.  He could still see the vague outline to the higher peaks of the eastern end of Mirkwood Mountains range.  The moon had not yet risen and he worried about the others, he knew the spiders were more active at night and the smell of Uichiril’s fresh blood would bring them running.  The larger spiders and most of the nests were farther east in the larger caves of the taller mountains, where they made easy prey of unwary travelers who found themselves ensnared by the powers of the Enchanted River.

“You will need a bigger fire if you wish to keep the spiders at bay.”  Lord Ortäuré stated as he unhooked his sword belt and pulled down the leather harness that held two daggers on his back.  “But I would not suggest going out alone.”  He continued, pulling the thicker outer tunic over his head, followed quickly by the slightly thinner under tunic.

“Help me cover her.”  He said quietly, finally turning to look at the frightened human standing at the mouth of the cave.  “Sit her up, gently.”  He told him as Donagh walked over to him.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“Find Aldalómë.”  Thranduil stated to the officer who stood silently only a few feet away from him, his gaze never leaving the distant edge of the dark forest.

The gentle breeze that would otherwise have felt cool against his heated skin instead carried with it the foul stench of decay, infuriating him even more.  Darkness had now descended, small camp fires flickered as the men settled in for the night.  The pain tightened in his chest as he recounted the Eluandúnië’s report, rationally he understood his reasoning for separating the group, he could not have foreseen the number of men that had ambushed them.  Although the one they had managed to take captive had not yet revealed much information, he knew it was only a matter of time.

Against his better judgement, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to recall the image of her dancing green eyes, the sound of her laughter, the feel of her in his arms, and the familiar scent of lavender and lilac that always lingered long after she had left his presence.  Frowning deeply as reality invaded his thoughts, she was out there in the darkness and possibly injured, the pain in his chest only tightened as he struggled to breathe, fighting off the thought of anything worse.

“You wanted to see me _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Aldalómë said quietly, walking into the shadows just beyond the camp fire.

“Yes, I do.”  Thranduil stated, his tone was void of emotion as he turned away from him.  “Do not do this to me Aldalómë.”  He continued as they walked some distance away from the others, his tone was quiet and thoughtful.

“ _Hîr vuin_?” (My Lord)  Aldalómë almost blurted, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at the kings’ unreadable expression.

“I trust your judgement, but I will not tolerate your coddling.”  Thranduil stated, his tone breaking only slightly as he struggled with old memories.  “You are without question my oldest and one of my dearest friends but I need my Chief March Warden now more than I ever have.”  He told him, meeting the soft pale blue eyes that watched him with concern.

“Thranduil...”

“No Aldalómë.”  He said softly, shaking his head slowly as he reached over to grasp his shoulder.  “You knew this day would come.”  He continued, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.  “It feels like a lifetime ago.  I will always cherish the memory of what we shared between us but it cannot be.”

“Do you love her?”  Aldalómë asked, his voice was barely above a whisper as he gazed sadly at the one who was his first and only love.

“Does she love you?”  He asked quietly when Thranduil only nodded, his beautiful sapphire eyes pleading for him to understand.

“I believe she does and I intend to marry her.”  Thranduil told him as a shaky smile curled his lips, very much aware of the pain he could see within the depths of the pale blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	22. Spiders & Bounty Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the elven army musters in the foothills of the Mirkwood Mountains, Lord Ortäuré learns the truth about his fathers’ plans for the Elvenking. Struggling to cling to the tenuous thread of hope, Tauriel prays that Thranduil reaches her in time.

Gritting his teeth, Eirik blinked against the light from the lantern as he tried to focus on the blurred image of the tall silvery golden haired elf who just entered the tent.  Watching him as he licked his lips, he could taste the blood in his mouth and feel it trickling down the side of his face over his left eye that had swollen closed.  Pulling against the ropes that bound him to the center post in the tent, he tried to flex his painful shoulder muscles but it was useless, he could feel the stake that pinioned his bindings to the ground.

Swallowing instinctively as the elf turned toward him, his face as cold as marble yet his eyes burned with a hatred that could not only be seen but felt as they raked across him with ice like fingers.  The tall lithe figure moved closer, his footsteps making no sound in the strange silence that filled the tent.  Dressed in the same ornate black armor worn by the other golden haired elf, the silver circlet on his head was the only visible sign that he was none other than the Elvenking himself.

“Your allegiance is admirable but I fear it is sorely misplaced.”  Thranduil stated quietly yet his deep voice carried easily throughout the tent.  “I assure you I will discover everything I need to know whether you cooperate with me or not.”  He added, his soft tone belying the struggle within him as he fought the urge to kill him and be done with it.

“I think I would have had more fun with you than the little she-elf bitch....”

A strangled grunt ripped through his lips as Eirik felt his head twist suddenly and violently to the side, pain shot through his jaw and neck.  Gasping for breath as he started to turn back toward the elf, he froze, feeling the sharp edge of the dagger pressing against his throat as the Elvenking now squatted in front of him.  He cringed inwardly as the Elvenking leaned even closer, his lips curled back causing the marble mask to melt into that of a vicious predator about to consume his prey.  He felt the edge of the dagger cutting into his throat as he swallowed against the fear that crept up from the depths of his stomach.

“Your life matters not to me.”  Thranduil whispered, enjoying the growing fear in the man’s eyes as he drew the point of his dagger across his already bruised cheek.  “These are my lands, my people and you have taken one of mine.”  He continued, his eyes narrowed threateningly as he drew the dagger downward to his jaw, leaving a long crimson trail in its wake.

“I already told the other one, I don’t know where they went.”  Eirik choked out, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the pole.  “All we were supposed to do was kill the guards and hold her there until the others came for her.”

“What others?!”  Thranduil demanded, striking him hard with a balled fist across the cheek he had just marked with his dagger.

“I don’t know!”  Eirik exclaimed angrily, pausing to spit out the blood that now filled his mouth as he glared back at the Elvenking.  “The elf only told each of us what he thought we needed to know, nothing more!”

“It would seem that I already have the answers I need.”  Thranduil said quietly, a contemptuous smile curling the corners of his lips as he rose to his full height above him.  “For the crimes you have committed against my people, you too will dwell within my dungeons until I decide it is time for you to move on to wherever afterlife your foolish beliefs decree.”  He added, his tone dripped with a venom matched only by the hatred in his eyes as he turned away from him, striding quickly out of the tent.

“We need to speak with the others.”  Thranduil stated as Aldalómë fell in step with him.  “I do not think these men were prepared for her experienced accompaniment...”

“ _Hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Lieutenant Vanyë interrupted him cautiously as he approached.  “I am sorry but you should know.  The scouts have found Häëmir.”  He stated, glancing at Aldalómë as he nodded respectfully toward the king.  “He has been gravely injured but he was able to tell us that Tërÿani and Tauriel had bolted into the forest when the second ambush hit them, they were headed were headed south when he last saw them.”

“She escaped!”  Thranduil exclaimed silently, his heart leapt with relief.  “Where is he?!”  He asked, his heart pounding in his chest, unable to conceal the hope that radiated in his voice as he moved toward the officer.

“He is with the healers’ _hir vuin_ (my lord), he still lives but I am afraid he is unable to speak any further.”  Lieutenant Vanyë replied, his gaze flickered nervously between the king and his Chief March Warden

“I see.”  Thranduil said quietly, nodding as his gaze turning inward, he glanced quickly around him as if to gather his thoughts.  “She is still out there.”  He thought frantically, the now familiar pain gripping his heart even tighter as it threatened to consume him. 

“Go back to your men.”  He stated, turning his attention back to the nervous lieutenant.  “We will move out once dawn has broken.  I will speak with the other Wardens.”

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord)  Lieutenant Vanyë stated and quickly departed from him.

“They are headed into a trap.”  Thranduil stated quietly, turning toward Aldalómë.  “Ráerû said the two he overheard at the inn spoke of the caves in the west regions of the mountains.  I know too that Ortäuré is with them.”

“So, it was Tirithiáël.”  Aldalómë said quietly, his eyes narrowed as he gazed out over the men as they prepared themselves to enter the forest.

“Yes, Captain Lárasarnë informed me they found Afÿmrail’s body early yesterday morning.”  Thranduil said quietly, sadness now filling his eyes as he dropped his gaze.  “The note he found in his pocket confirms he was merely a pawn in Tirithiáël’s plot.”

“He was a very talented scribe.  He could easily have matched my signature on the note telling Tauriel to go south instead of north.”  He continued when Aldalómë frowned deeply at him yet remained silent.  “Now I understand why she did not visit me before she departed.”  He added quietly, mostly to himself as he directed his anger inwardly for falsely accusing her of disobeying him.

“It will be too dangerous for the mounts.”  Aldalómë stated, turning his gaze toward the horizon just beyond the taller peaks of the Mirkwood Mountains in the east.  “We can travel faster and more easily on foot.”

“Yes.”  Thranduil nodded, his own gaze turning back toward the ominous darkness of the tree line just beyond their encampment.  “We will use the standard formation, keep them close but I want the archers in front to clear the way.  Tell the others, I will speak with Eluandúnië.”  He stated as he turned away from him, striding back toward the grassy meadow just beyond the tent.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“Going up against an army of elves was not part of the bargain!”  Lochinvar exclaimed angrily as he stormed into the cave, moving directly toward the elves at the far end of the cave.  “I can’t sell a dead elf!”

“She was never part of the bargain!”  Lord Ortäuré hissed, stopping the tall Northman with the point of his sword at his throat.  “She was never to have been harmed.”  He continued, pressing his blade forward slightly against his flesh.

“You still don’t understand do you?”  Lochinvar said quietly, a slow grin stretching over his sharp features.  “The gold alone your father offered was never enough and he knew it.”  He continued, his eyes narrowing as he refused to back down from the elf.

“Take your men and leave now while you can.”  Lord Ortäuré told him, watching the other men as they spread out behind the man in front of him.  “My life is already forfeit.  If you leave now, you can still reach the Old Forest Road.  As long as she remains here with me, the king will not give chase beyond his borders.”

“Your father was right, you are weak.”  Lochinvar said quietly, turning away from him, yet he continued to study the elf’s body language.  “Are really so foolish to believe all of this is about an arranged marriage for the young prince?”  He asked, casually reaching for his water flask, smiling inwardly as he noted the look of confusion settling in the elf’s expression.  Taking a long drink, he allowed the moment and his words to stretch out between them.

“She is your kings’ woman.”  Lochinvar stated, the unmistakable tone of laughter in his voice as he hung the flask back on his belt before turning to look directly at the elf.  “Your father wants to destroy him.  King Thranduil’s reputation is legendary even among my people.  He is strong enough that in time he would have moved beyond the grief he will suffer at having buried the one he loves.”  He continued as he stepped closer to him, a sneering smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Tirithiáël knows the young prince will never sit on that throne.”  He laughed, an odd sound that had a haunting ring as he stepped closer to the elf.  “The dissention between father and son is now complete. 

“You lie!”  Lord Ortäuré exclaimed, taking a step back from him.  Yet there was a deep ring of truth in what the Northman had said, as much as he tried to deny it to himself.

The young prince had made it quite clear over the years he had served as the Commander of the Patrols that he had no desire to wear the crown, his decision to abandon his father and his people in the aftermath of the battle in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain had not come as a surprise to those who knew him.  Tauriel, who had once been the thread that had held him to the realm had now become wedge between father and son.  It was common knowledge the king had favored her over all the others of his ward, raising her as a daughter to him, yet none had foreseen what was now so clear.

“Do I?”  Lochinvar asked, arching a brow as he turned to face him squarely.  “Not less than two nights passed, the young prince was seen heading west just beyond these lands.  He is more than likely in Rivendell by now.  And now I will take her from him as well.”

“What do you hope to gain from this?!”  Lord Ortäuré demanded, still holding his blade pointed at the tall Northman in front of him. 

“Nothing, yet everything.  My part in this is only to make her disappear.”  Lochinvar shrugged as he placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side as he studied the elf.  “When your king finds no trace of her, his love for her will give him hope that she still lives.  In time that hope will fade and the loneliness of the loss of his love and his only son will consume him and finally break him.  Tirithiáël can then take the throne without force or suspicion.”

“I don’t care about the troubles of elves.”  Lochinvar stated, all humor having left his voice as he turned away from him.  “I won’t even be a memory by then.  But you my friend.”  He paused, looking back over his shoulder toward him.  “You are only alive now because I need you to make sure she lives.  A dead slave is of no use to me.”  He added as he reached the mouth of the cave.

“Get him whatever he needs but keep him in there until I return.”  Lochinvar said quietly as he stepped out into the gray light of early dawn.  “The others should be gathering in the foothills on the south side of the mountains.”

“What about her?”  Ardara asked quietly as the moved away from the mouth of the cave.

“I don’t really care what happens to her.”  Lochinvar shrugged, a cruel smile stretching his lips as he turned to look at the small man beside him.  “It’s the Elvenking I want.”

Clenching his teeth as he struggled to collect his thoughts, Lord Ortäuré sank to his knees beside Tauriel.  Burying his face in his hands, he fought the sting of tears as he thought of the centuries he had listened to his fathers’ rantings without realizing just how mad he had become with his jealousy toward Thranduil.  It had been so easy to pacify him, because no one would be harmed, nothing would really change once the prince was safely wed to a Sindar.  Right or wrong, the House of Oropher had ruled over the Woodland Realm for over five millennia and they had fared well under Thranduils guidance.

“You fool.”

Startled at the sound of her barely audible whisper, he looked down at Tauriel, her eyes were still closed as she licked her parched lips.  Her skin shimmered slightly in the glow of the small fire, illuminating the sheen of sweat as small beads formed on her smooth brow.

“He will kill you.”  She whispered, swallowing against the pain that burned like fire across her breasts and down her left side.

“Ardara!”  Lord Ortäuré called out quickly as he placed a gentle finger on her lips to silence her.  “Get in here!”

“What do you want?”  The bounty hunter demanded more than asked, his tone angry as he stepped back inside the cave.

“Do you know the plant _Canadensis_?”  He asked, pulling his hand away from her lips to touch her forehead.  “Yellow Root, do you know it?!”  He insisted impatiently, realizing by the man’s expression that he didn’t understand him.

“Yes, I know what it is.”  Ardara replied yet he stood there staring at him, a slight frown creased his brow.

 “She is burning with fever, I need as much as you can find.  And fresh water, there is a stream not far where you can find it.”  Lord Ortäuré stated, glaring at him.  “I am going nowhere as long as she lives.  The spiders will have moved down into the trees by now, but I would not dally too long.”  He added as he turned back to Tauriel.

“Be silent for now.”  He whispered as he heard the man storm out of the cave.  “I am already dead _hiril vuin_ (my lady).  My only hope is that you do not end up the same.”  He added as he gently worked the thin under tunic upward to reveal the thick bandage, yet he was careful to hide her breast from view.

“Be still.”  He urged her as she shifted against the hard stone floor.  “As long as they believe you to be weak, you are no threat and their eyes will be on me.”  He told her, his fingers loosening the knots that held the poultice in place.

Wincing, Tauriel swallowed hard against the pain as he began removing the poultice.  She had helped enough in the healing rooms to know the drawing effect of the _Canadensis_ in the tincture had caused the poultice to dry out during the night and was now stuck to her seeping wound.  Slowly opening her eyes slightly, she studied his face, noting the wet streaks of his tears as he carefully worked it loose.

“I will not let you die _hiril vuin_ (my lady).”  He told her quietly yet firmly as he turned slightly to look at her.  “From the depths of my _fäë_ (soul) I am truly sorry that I have brought such harm to you.  I deserve whatever fate the king chooses.  But I ask you now, please trust me that I will do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“Get the men ready.”  Eluandúnië stated as he approached Lieutenant Tháëdrâs.  “We will not be joining the others.  Their only escape is to the south, our task is to cut them off at the Old Forest Road.”  He informed him, watching as Thranduil joined the main group now preparing to enter the forest.

“There is one among them, a tall Northman named Lochinvar.  You will know him by his sandy colored hair and ice blue eyes.”  Eluandúnië’s voice was grim as he turned back toward the lieutenant.  “Wound him if necessary but he is to be taken alive.”

In contrast to their role of support in an open field battle, the elven archers led the advancing army into the murky depths of the forest.  The longer range of their arrows over swords would give them the advantage against the smaller, more aggressive _shelob_ (spiders) that inhabited this region. 

Steeling himself for what lay ahead, for the first time in his many long years Thranduil struggled with the weight of his position and his love for Tauriel.  Never in his life had the crown felt as heavy as he drew his swords and followed his men into the eerie darkness.  He refused to allow himself to believe that any harm had come to her, yet that fear weighed heavily in his thoughts.  Fighting to maintain his focus, he could not ignore the pain that gripped his heart as they pressed forward. 

The stench of decay and rotting flesh was almost overwhelming as it wafted around them in the strange glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere yet nowhere.  Slowly, as they advanced he could hear the peculiar but barely perceptible sounds, unique to the _shelob_ (spiders) as they moved agitatedly amongst the tree tops above them.  In the distance to his left, he heard the sickening shriek of a _shelob_ (spider) followed by the sound of branches snapping beneath the weight as more of them scurried toward the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canadensis = Nothing more than the scientific name for the actual plant called Yellow Root 
> 
> As always thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	23. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil’s army reach the caves of the Mirkwood Mountains to find Tauriel near death. The slave trader Lochinvar and most of his men have fled. With heavy heart, Legolas resurfaces in Imladris and has no knowledge of what is happening within the Woodland Realm. Elrond must now figure out how to counsel the young prince and repair whatever rift may have formed between father and son.

The irregular breezes seemed to ease the heaviness of the mists within the forest as they pressed forward, bringing with them tantalizing but brief wisps of fresh air.  While they were far more aggressive, the smaller _shelob_ (spiders) seemed less willing to attack since Thranduil ordered the search groups to close ranks making them less appealing.  The ground had begun a slow upward slant and the trees had already started to thin somewhat, a sign they were nearing the more rocky terrain of the foothills.

“There may still be goblins about.”  Aldalómë said quietly, moving closer to Thranduil.  “These mountains are riddled with small caves.”

“Pull the scouts back and close the ranks tighter.”  Thranduil told him, scanning the tree tops as he listened for signs of the _shelob_ (spiders).  “Have the archers fall back once we lose the cover of the forest.”

Scanning the tree line in front of him, Thranduil felt the tingle of anticipation begin to prickle across his skin as he mentally prepared himself.  Yet his gut twisted with trepidation of what they might encounter, humans were far more dangerous than the _shelob_ (spiders). 

Tirithiáël had been very clever to conceal his plot behind the guise of numerous yet seemingly unrelated tasks known only to those responsible for carrying them out.  The only thing Thranduil knew with any certainty was that he had been foolish or reckless enough put his trust in the greed of ruthless bounty hunters and slave traders whose loyalties were only to themselves.  The scouts had recovered two bodies not far from where they found Häëmir.  Elvändéruil and the others had managed to kill four others at the outpost, yet he still did not know how many others remained.  It was the slave trader Lochinvar that concerned him most as he was known for his penchant for trading elves and having a long reach west of the Misty Mountains.

Catching sight of Aldalómë as he made his way back toward him, Thranduil lifted his sword at his nod, giving the signal to advance, leaving the cover of the forest.  The tension within him tightened even more as they moved out into the open, exposing themselves as they traversed the two mile distance to the base of the mountains.  Moving quickly, he watched the wave as they reached the mountain, splitting off into single file lines like an army of ants moving up over a mound.

“Get her up now!”  Lochinvar hissed angrily, striding purposefully into the cave.  “Damn it!”  He cursed loudly, stopping in his tracks as he stared at the empty space against the far wall.  “Find them!”  He hissed as Ardara and Bjorn nearly tripped over themselves rushing into the cave behind him.  “They can’t be far.  Search the ledges, now damn it!”

“You will pay for this!”  He growled angrily, grabbing Ardara’s neck, choking him as he hurled the smaller body toward the back of the cave.

True fear gripped him as Lord Ortäuré heard the Northman’s angry cursing and the heavy rush of footsteps into the outer part of the cave.  The slight fissure in the rock wall had been barely wide enough for him to squeeze through and he prayed they wouldn’t notice it.  Clenching his jaw, he pulled Tauriel’s now unconscious body upward toward the narrow crawl space on the rock ledge.  The strong metallic scent of blood and the sticky feeling in his hand told him her wound had reopened and she was bleeding.  Pushing her into the back of the crevice, he used his body to shield her as he pressed tightly against the thick poultice to stifle the blood flow.

“You said to get him what he needed and that’s what I did!”  Ardara choked, clasping his neck as he struggled to his feet.  “We weren’t gone that long!”

“I was right outside.”  Donagh stated as he started walking along the wall of the cave.  “No one left, they have to be in here somewhere.”

“They’re almost here!”  Goran exclaimed breathlessly as he ran into the cave.  “The king is right out in front.”  He added, eyes widening as he stared at Lochinvar.

“There’s no time!”  Lochinvar spat angrily as he turned toward the mouth of the cave.  “We move now!  Get down the mountain and make for the Carrock.”

“Not this time.”  He chuckled silently to himself as he fled from the cave, turning sharply to the east toward the narrow valley that led to the larger caves in the opposite direction of Carrock.  Ignoring the pointed tines of the Locust bushes and Hawthorn trees that tore at his leggings and scratched his skin, he raced toward the area where he knew the others waited for him.  Struggling to breathe through his nose, his lungs burned as he ran headlong down the steep slope toward his escape route.

“Lochinvar!  Where is he?!”  Thranduil demanded, glaring at the man on his knees in front of him.  “Answer me!”  He exclaimed, pressing the tip of his sword into the flesh of the man’s neck.

“Carrack!”  Donagh choked out, cringing beneath the towering figure of the Elvenking.  “He fled to Carrack!”

“ _Hîr vuin_!” (My Lord)  Back here!”

“Kill them if they even move!”  Thranduil hissed as he turned quickly toward the mouth of the cave.

“Tauriel!”  The anguished cry ripped from his throat as he ran toward Rínnänéth, dropping his sword as he wrapped his arms around her.  “Oh my love!  I am here!  I am here!”  He told her, pressing his cheek to hers as he cradled her limp body close.

“She has lost a lot of blood.”  Lord Ortäuré said quietly as he squeezed through the tight fissure, his gaze following the king.  “This should be enough until he can get her to a healer.”  He said as he lifted the strap of his pack off his shoulder and over his head, handing it to Rínnänéth.

Blinking back the tears, Thranduil knelt beside her as he gently laid her down near the fire.  His gaze went straight to the large dark stain beneath her left arm and across her one breast.  His voice was barely audible as he whispered softly to her, his heart pleading with her to hear him as he quickly rolled the bloody tunic up to expose the tattered and now useless bandage.

“Take him outside with the others.”  Rínnänéth ordered, pointing toward Lord Ortäuré as he glanced briefly at Lieutenant Vanyë before taking the pack and moving to join Thranduil.

All sound faded and time seemed to stand still for Thranduil as he deftly cut away the useless strips of cloth that had served as bandaging.  He was only vaguely aware of Rínnänéth beside him as they worked quickly to clean the away the dried blood that had crusted around the edges of the wound.  Placing his hands over it as he felt Rínnänéth’s firm grip on his shoulder, he drew strength from him as he pulled deeply from within himself and began to chant softly.

Heedless of the hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he recklessly reached deeper into himself as he felt her drifting away.  Desperate as his strength faltered, he felt another strong hand grasp his other shoulder as his strength began to wane.  Thranduil reached deeper into himself as he felt the flow of power supporting him, he continued to chant, drawing her back to him.  Through narrowed eyes, he watched as the color slowly began to return to her lips and ashen skin.  Still, he concentrating on her faint breaths, feeling strengthen if only slightly, as he continued the soft chant for what seemed like hours.  Weakened to his core, he leaned forward as fresh tears ran freely down his cheeks as he buried his face in her neck, listening to the steady sound of her heart.

“Come.”  Aldalómë said quietly as he grasped Rínnänéth’s shoulder firmly, concern radiating from the depths of his pale blue eyes.  “Let them rest now.”  He said softly as they walked out onto the ledge just beyond the mouth of the cave.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”  Rínnänéth asked, his eyes shining as a slight smile curling his lips.  “They are not bonded, yet I have never felt such love.  It was their love for each other that brought her back to him.”

“Tell the men to make camp.”  Aldalómë sighed heavily, yet he returned the soft smile before looking back into the cave.  “ _You knew this day would come_.”  Thranduil’s words drifted back to him as he watched him cling to her and remembered the rare feeling of their shared love.

“I will be fine.”  He said quietly, answering the unspoken question in Rínnänéth’s eyes as he turned back toward him.  “All is as it should be.”  He added, the soft smile returning to his lips.

Sensing they were alone, Thranduil stretched out beside her, slipping his arm beneath her head as he drew his cape protectively over them.  He knew they were safe under the watchful eyes of his guards, for now his only concern was for her.  Snuggling closer to her, closing his eyes he felt her soft but steady breaths against his wet cheeks.  Smiling faintly, he lay his hand gently on her breast, feeling the rhythmic beat of her heart.  He had no idea how much time had passed as the familiar scent of the _Canadensis_ reached him, telling that someone had put a pot of it near the fire.  The healing chant had sealed her wounds but she would need a new tincture soon to help fight the wound sickness that raged within her body.  He knew too that in his desperation, he had over exerted himself and pulled too deeply, leaving himself weak.

A heavy silence filled the small cave as evening descended upon the mountain, the ember glow of the fire cast strange shadows that danced eerily across the craggy walls.  Dark storms gathered in the depths of the unreadable sapphire eyes that stared unblinking at the dark haired elf lord seated on the opposite side of the small fire.  Rage such as he had never felt before boiled within him as Thranduil battled with the vengeance his heart demanded of him and his need to learn the full extent of Tirithiáël’s treason.

“Tell me Ortäuré.”  He said quietly, his voice was strangely calm even to his own ears.  “What did you hope to gain from this?”  He asked, his gaze boring into the darker blue ones as the son of his now former council member looked up at him.

“Nothing.”  Ortäuré began as he looked up, his throat constricting painfully as he met the kings’ cold eyes.  “I only sought to pacify him.”  He continued, his tone carried the distinct sound of defeat as his shoulders slumped.  “No one was to be harmed, least of all her.”

“A traitor to a traitor.”  Thranduil stated, his tone was quiet, his lips twisted slightly as he studied him.  “I should interest you to know that I have known centuries of Tirithiáël’s hatred toward my father and his foolish plans to acquire the crown.”  He added, falling silent as he chose not to reveal his long kept secret of Galadriel’s prophecy.

“There is nothing you can tell me that will spare his life.”  He continued after long moments, his eyes narrowing slightly.  “As for you and your brother...”

“Oviëdó knows nothing of this!”  Ortäuré exclaimed, his eyes widening as he stared back at the king.  “Please _hîr vuin_ , I beg of you to spare him.” (My Lord)  His voice cracked as he pleaded with him.  “I deserve whatever you decree.”

“Then you will tell me everything!”  Thranduil spat angrily, interrupting him as he was unable to contain himself any further.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Frowning deeply as he laid the dispatch on the table, Lord Elrond studied the solitary figure who stood silently in the eastern garden just beyond the terrace outside his private quarters.  Only now did he understand the great sense of turmoil within the young prince, who had spoken very little since his unexpected arrival.  Unbidden, painful memories long buried over time crept into his thoughts as he glanced down at the elegant script he recognized as that of Lady Gilaiwë herself.

“What is it?”  Lindir asked quietly, concern radiating from his soft eyes as he gently touched Elrond’s elbow.

“I think I understand what is troubling the young prince.”  Lord Elrond said as he reached down, turning the dispatch over to hide it.  “Years ago when Thranduil last visited, he was concerned over a number of things.”  He continued as he slipped his arm around Lindir, leading him away from the table.

“I know he can be stubborn and quite pigheaded at times.”  Lord Elrond said, arching a brow slightly as he smiled down at the smaller elf.  “But his heart is always in the right place.”

“So why would this cause you grief?”  Lindir persisted, the concern in his eyes taking away from the soft smile he returned.

“In the time since his fathers’ death at Dagorlad, Thranduil has dedicated himself to his people but above all else to his son, whom he loves beyond words.”  Lord Elrond spoke quietly, almost to himself as they walked toward the terrace just beyond his public sitting room.

“He has spent much of his life undoing that which he perceives as the past wrongs of his fathers’ narrow minded ways.”  He sighed heavily as he rested his free hand on the terrace railing.  “When he last visited he was concerned about the growing closeness between his son and young _elleth_ (elf maiden) whom he raised as his own daughter after her parents were killed in a renegade orc attack on their village.”

“Why would such a thing concern him to such degree that he would need counsel?”  Lindir asked, frowning slightly as he tried to read the thoughtful expression on the lord’s face.  “Finding love is truly a gift, would he not be happy for his son?”

“Yes, normally he would have been.”  Lord Elrond nodded.  “However, things are not so simple with the Royal House of the Woodland Realm.”  He stated, his tone sour with disapproval.

“In his arrogance and shortsightedness, Oropher had decreed early in his ruler ship of the Silvan elves that only a Sindar would sit on the throne.”  He continued, his arm tightening slightly around him as he felt Lindir stiffen.  “In those days, there was a deep divide among the elven clans but Thranduil never shared his fathers’ prejudices.  He sought my counsel on allowing his son and only child to find true love, something Thranduil himself was denied.”

“He is the king!”  Lindir exclaimed, his eyes widening in astonishment as he stared up at Lord Elrond.  “If his father decreed it, then he should just undecree it.”  He stated in a matter of fact tone, a deep frown creasing his otherwise smooth brow.

“It’s not quite that simple.”  Lord Elrond chuckled slightly, hugging the slender body a little closer for a moment.  “There are other things to consider.  Thranduil may be the king but much like here, he relies on a council to help guide him in decisions that affect the entire kingdom.  Some of those council members are Sindar and are unyielding in their support of that decree.  Thranduil expressed concern that abandoning it could result in a serious divide amongst his council and therefore his kingdom, possibly even a revolt.”

“Oh dear _Eru_! (God) Lindir gasped, his eye widening again as his thoughts turned to the old stories of the Kinslayings.

“Yes.”  Lord Elrond sighed heavily, nodding as he studied the shocked expression on Lindir’s face.  “The line of succession to the throne of the Woodland Realm has always been weak at best.  Thranduil himself was an only child and forced to marry a Sindar of his fathers’ choosing and he is loath to do the same to his own child.”

“How horrible!”  Lindir exclaimed, yet his voice was soft as he turned toward the solitary figure in the garden.  “To be torn from the one you love just because of their birth.  No wonder he is so sad.”

“That is only part of it I’m afraid.”  Lord Elrond informed him, his tone was heavy with a strange emotion as he looked down to meet Lindir’s questioning gaze.

“The young _elleth_ (elf maiden) does not feel the same way toward Legolas.”  He began, pausing as he struggled with just how much to tell him.  “She is actually in love with Thranduil and he loves her in return.”  He added, realizing it would all be revealed soon enough anyway.

Lindir’s eyes widened as he opened his mouth to speak, yet he could not find the words.  All of it was far too much for him to fathom as he stood there staring at the soft, understanding eyes of his own lover.  Pain twisting his lower belly at the thought of not being allowed to be with him or worse to see him with another knowing how they felt about each other.

“Legolas has come here to find answers.”  Lord Elrond said quietly, lifting Lindir’s chin to close his mouth.  “Those answers must come from within himself.  Just as his father sought counsel from me, I will be there for his son.  We will do as we always do, give him refuge and make him feel welcome.”

“Of course!”  Lindir exclaimed as he leaned closer to him.  “How can we do otherwise?”  He stated more than asked as he pressed his cheek against the softness of Elronds robes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading this story! I struggling with some of it but at the same time, I’m really enjoying writing it! Comments are always welcome!


	24. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Tauriel are reunited and the elven forces prepare for the journey back to the elven fortress. Legolas begins to realize the deeper truths of his father’s words as he confronts his own shortcomings.

A soft smile played across her lips as her gaze drifted over the sculpted lines of the beautiful face so close to her own, even in his slumber she could see the signs of stress on his normally smooth brow.  Partially obscured by a curtain of silvery blonde hair, the long dark lashes adorning his sapphire eyes were wet and spiky from his tears.  Her gaze rested on the slightly parted lips that beckoned her to taste their sweet warmth, yet she did not want to move lest she disturb him.  She felt the sting of unshed tears at the backs of her eyes as she admired not only his outward beauty but the beautiful gentle soul he kept buried so deeply within himself, hidden beneath the cold mask of indifference.

Closing her eyes, Tauriel felt the heat of her tears slip silently from behind her own lashes.  So lost in despair as she faded between the dark dreamlessness and the pain that wracked her body, she clung to the memory of the bright light that had wrapped itself around her.  There were no words spoken yet the heart that called out to her filled her with such love as it cradled her, taking away the pain and the sadness of loss.  She remembered drifting as that light flickered ever so slightly before washing over her in desperation.  It was in that moment she felt the raw essence of him within that light as he reached so deeply within himself and knew Thranduil had found her.

Opening her eyes as she felt gentle fingers brush aside a few stray stands of her hair, she gazed into the purest sapphire eyes alight with the brilliance of starlight.  There was no mask, only love filled with all the pain and sorrow, hope and joy that came with loving someone in spite of and perhaps because of all their gifts and faults.

“Good morning my love.”  Thranduil whispered softly, his lips brushing her forehead between her brows as he spoke.  “I love you.”  He told her, his lips toying with hers.

“I love you.”  She breathed, slipping her hand behind his neck, pulling him closer.  “Forever and always.”  She told him as she pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss, savoring the taste and smell of him.

“Tauriel...”

“Shh, my love.”  She quieted his strained voice, gently caressing his exposed cheek as he pressed the other firmly against hers.  Smiling softly as she felt his arms tighten around her as he shifted slightly, burying his face in her neck.

“I do not want to be away from you even for a moment.”  He said quietly after long moments, his face still pressed tightly into the warmth of her neck.

“I will be fine.”  She told him, raking her fingers through his long soft tendrils.  “Go, they need you more than I do right now.”  She insisted, hugging him back.

“We have much to talk about.”  He said quietly as he leaned back, smiling down at her.

“Later.”  She stated, smiling back at him to soften her insistence.  “We will have much time to talk once we have returned home.”  She told him, pressing a finger to his lips.  “Now go, see to your men.”

“Oh _Eru_! (God) I love you!”  Thranduil exclaimed through clenched teeth, his voice cracking slightly as he quickly leaned down capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss.  “You rest.”  He added, releasing her mouth only to nuzzle her face softly before reluctantly pushing himself to his feet.

Gathering his cape from where it had fallen, he laid it over her, gently caressing her chin with the tip of his fingers before collecting his swords laying nearby.  Sheathing them at his hips as he turned away from her, striding purposefully from the cave, he nodded at the guards as he walked passed them in search of Aldalómë.

“The caves have been searched and we found nothing.”  Macilvoronhûr informed him as he reached the small camp a short distance down the mountain side.  “They scattered pretty quickly, heading east.”  He continued, frowning slightly as he shifted on his feet.  “I would say there were about four maybe five of them.”

“Lochinvar?”  Thranduil asked quietly, his gaze turning toward Eluandúnië.

“We found signs of a larger group camped at the Carrack.”  Eluandúnië stated, shaking his head.  “I don’t believe they were there long, maybe only used it for a gathering place.  They’re on horseback and could be anywhere by now.”

“Regroup at the base of the mountain.”  Thranduil stated after long moments.  “I wish to be gone from here quickly but Tauriel is still weak.”  He continued, a deep frown creasing his brow as he scanned the taller peaks to the east.  “Break your fast quickly.  I intend to reunite with the others before nightfall.”

“What do we do with Ortäuré and the others?”  Aldalómë asked quietly as the others departed to carry out his bidding.

“Inform Ortäuré that he is in charge of them.”  Thranduil stated, his eyes suddenly darkening like a coming storm as he turned back toward him.  “Tell him if he ensures they arrive safely with the rest of us, I will take only his title and not his life.”  He hissed through clenched teeth before spinning on his heel and striding away from him.

“ _Hiril vuin, saes_.” (My lady, please).  Healer Mírië complained as she tried to assist her onto a large rock not far from the now smoldering campfire.

“I am fine.”  Tauriel insisted, waving her hands away from her.  “Please.”  She sighed, softening her tone with a slight smile.  “I need something to eat other than broth.”

“Thank you Mírië, you may go.”  Thranduil said quietly, a slight smile touching his lips as he watched the frustrated healer with mild interest.  “She will not argue with me.”  He added, his gaze turning meet Tauriel’s narrowing eyes.

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord).  Mírië said quietly, nodding as she walked toward him, more than happy to leave the situation to him.

“Thran...”

“Enough Tauriel.”  He interrupted her firmly, smiling slightly as he held up a finger.  “Aldalómë is more than capable of commanding my entire army in the midst of a battle.  I doubt very much he requires anything from me at the moment.”  He continued as he walked toward her.

“I specifically remember telling you to rest.”  He added as he cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face upward.

“Please, I feel so stiff, I want to move.”  She protested mildly, feeling her cheeks color slightly at the disapproval in his gaze.

“I almost lost you.”  He told her softly, his gaze searching her face as he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.  “It has only been two days, your wounds are mostly healed but you are weak Tauriel.  Please, do not argue with me in this matter.”  He stated, his arms tightening around her as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

“I am so sorry.”  Tauriel said softly, swallowing back the tears as she clung to him.  “I should have waited to speak with you.  Something did not feel right but I was so excited to get back out in to the forest I paid no attention to it.”

“It is not your fault.”  Thranduil sighed as he guided her toward the makeshift bed they had shared for the past couple of days.  “We were both deceived.”  He told her as he lowered himself onto it, pulling her into his lap.

“I knew the path to the River Outpost was safe even at night.”  He continued, reaching for his pack.  “Once I discovered you had already departed, I sent a messenger to the Central Outpost instructing Elvändéruil to return you to the fortress without going to the South Outpost.  I already had my suspicions Tirithiáël was up to something.  I did not know what nor did I have proof.”

“How did you know?”  She asked, frowning curiously as she accepted the small cheese filled roll from him.

“It was just a feeling, a shifting.  I have felt a stirring in the forest for some time.”  He told her, shaking his head as he reached for his water flask.  “Elvändéruil was the one who figured it out.”

Laying her head against his chest, she listened in silence as he explained the events leading up to the discovery.  She had become so comfortable with Elvändéruil’s presence, she had not noticed when it had become a constant.  The other guards that were her constant shadows were slowly replaced by those of the elite forces and his friends.  She knew of his friendship with Ráerû and admired the courage it took for the normally quiet healer to travel to Erebor, possibly placing himself in danger as well.  Sadness filled her has he told her of how Afÿmrail had taken his own life for his part.  The note Captain Lárasarnë found in his pocket had revealed everything.

“So Ortäuré was unaware of his fathers’ true plans.”  She sighed as she twisted her head back to look up at him.

“It matters not.”  Thranduil’s tone was hard as he tightened his arms around her instinctively.  “I will not discuss it now.  My only concern now is you and your safe return home.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“It is so peaceful here.”  Legolas said quietly, sensing a presence nearby yet he continued to gaze at the waterfall just beyond the narrow valley that split Imladris.

“Yes, it is.”  Lord Elrond commented softly as he stepped up beside the young prince.  “I often come to this very spot when I am troubled.”  He added, casting a slight glance toward him.  “I find the sound of the falls to be quite soothing.”

“Do you find your answers?”  Legolas asked pointedly as he turned toward him.

Arching a brow, Lord Elrond felt himself taken aback as he remembered his father looking at him with the same guarded yet inquisitive expression.  A slight smile curled his lips as he studied him for a moment, seeing so much of both his father and his grandfather in him.

“Sometimes.”  He told him quietly as he clasped his hands loosely behind him.  “It depends on the question.”

“How does he do it?”  Legolas sighed heavily as he turned away from him, toward the waterfall.

“Your father is unlike anyone I have ever known.”  Lord Elrond sighed, his thoughts turning briefly to his time in Lórinand when he first met a very young Prince Thranduil, much younger than his son is now.

“I am beginning to understand that.”  Legolas commented almost absently.  “He has often chided me for thinking too much with my heart.”  He admitted, glancing down at his feet as he felt the slight sting of embarrassment color his cheeks.  “He thinks I am too reckless.  He does not say it yet I know that I disappoint him.”

“Quite the contrary!”  Lord Elrond exclaimed as he reached out to him, grasping his shoulder firmly.  “Your father is very proud of you Legolas.  You must believe that.”  He insisted as he stared into the widening eyes of the young prince.

“Come, walk with me.”  Lord Elrond stated, turning the young prince away from the view.  “In his youth, the most difficult lesson your father needed to learn was balance.”  He began quietly as they strolled through the garden.  “Much as you are now, so was he in those days.  It took him many years to learn that like nature itself, there must be balance in all things.  If you allow your heart to rule, you lose the balance of logic.  But, as a ruler he needed to balance those decisions with the right of free will of his subjects, yet he must also balance their needs with the needs of the kingdom as a whole.”

“He has spoken of this many times when he would summon me to his private study.”  Legolas mused out loud as he laced his fingers loosely behind his back.  “Because I have no desire to rule, I did not listen as closely perhaps as I should have.”  He reluctantly admitted, a deep frown creasing his brow.

“Your father has known this for many years.”  Lord Elrond sighed, yet smiled broadly as the prince gasped and turned to stare at him in disbelief.  “Do not be surprised.”  He chuckled softly as he reached out to him, pulling him into a fatherly embrace.  “He does not have the gift of sight.”  He continued as he loosened his embrace, grasping his shoulders firmly.  “He is however very adept at reading others, a talent I would trust far more.”

“Why did he not say something?”  Legolas asked, the deep frown returning as he stared deeply into the soft silvery gray eyes that studied him in return.

“Because he truly believes in the right of free will.”  Lord Elrond stated, dropping his arms to his side as he turned back toward the path.

“The Hereditary Oath is something your father disagreed with.”  Lord Elrond began quietly after long moments.  “He has often discussed abandoning it over the years.  It has never sat well with him because he not only viewed it as a conflict to the right of free will, he has never shared your grandfathers’ bigotry.”

“I do not understand.”  Legolas stated, his eyes narrowing as he clenched his fingers together behind his back.  “Why now?  Why wait so long if he has never agreed with it?”

“You think this is personal?”  Lord Elrond asked, arching a brow as he glanced toward him.

“I do not know what to think anymore.”  Legolas reluctantly admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly as they continued down the winding path.

“Do you love her?”  Lord Elrond asked, guarding his expression as he turned to look at the young prince who had stopped in midstride.

“Who?!”  Legolas stammered as he stared at him in disbelief, realizing that the lord seemed all too aware of his situation.

“The one that had fallen for the dwarf.”  Lord Elrond said quietly.  “You spoke fondly of her when you came here after the battle in Erebor.  I knew then you believed yourself to be in love her and it pained you greatly.”

“It does not matter.  It is not me she loves.”  Legolas replied, his gaze taking on an inward look as he remembered her hovering over the body of the dwarf.  While he felt there was something between her and his father, all he had was palace gossip.

The death of the dwarf made it so much easier to direct his anger toward his father.  In truth she had never truly loved him, not in the way he believed that he loved her.  Blaming her was not fair either as he knew deep in his heart that it was not love he felt for her.  They shared a special bond, having grown close in her youth.  A bond that only deepened through the comradery that developed between them after she was granted permission to join the forest patrol.

“You are more than welcome to remain here as long as you feel the need.”  Lord Elrond said quietly as he pulled him into a gentle embrace.  “Your father is one of my oldest and dearest friends.”  He told him as he leaned back slightly.  “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.”  Legolas said quietly, a soft shy smile pulled at his lips as he looked into those soft silvery gray eyes.  “I think I would like to be alone for a while if you do not mind.”  He added as he returned the brief embrace.

“Not at all.”  Lord Elrond chuckled, stepping back slightly.  “Perhaps we will see each other at the evening meal.”  He added politely as he turned away from him, walking briskly back toward his own rooms.

Moving further into the garden, Legolas felt a heaviness in his heart as he sank slowly onto a stone bench not far off the worn path.  Staring into the still waters of the small pond, his thoughts turned to his father.  “ _You forced my hand in this Legolas. You have set things in motion that cannot be changed._ ”  His father’s words haunted him.

“I have wronged you Father.”  He thought sadly as he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.  “I have been so blind, so selfish.”  He whispered softly into the gentle breeze as he rested his forearms across his thighs, lacing his fingers together.

To those beyond their borders, his father was known only as the Elvenking.  While he hated war, as a warrior king he met every threat to his people and his lands with the full force of his army, fighting right alongside them. There was no need to speak his name to incite fear within any who sought to harm even one amongst the elves of the Woodland Realm.

A soft smile curled his lips as he thought of the part of his father he kept hidden from the outside world.  Regardless of the demands of his position, especially after his mother abandoned them, his father had always been there for him.  Very few knew the playful father who chased him for hours throughout the labyrinth of halls and passages of their fortress home.  The deep sound of his laughter echoing through the chambers when he found him in hiding places, only to make him squeal with laughter as he held him down and tickled him or swung him high in the air making his belly quiver.

While he was as demanding as he was doting, he was still there with him, teaching him and guiding him.  In his youth they had spent many hours in the forest, his father teaching him the how to quiet himself, to hear the subtle voices of the creatures that shared the forest with them.  Although he had excelled in his training with the masters of the sword and the bow, it was his father who took him aside, fine-tuning those skills.  Early in his adulthood, his father had taken to calling him into his private study, always treating him as an equal, respecting his thoughts and opinions on various matters involving the governance of the realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This was a difficult chapter to write for some reason! After going back a re-reading the story myself, I discovered numerous ‘plot threads’ that were dropped and now I’m struggling to wrap them all up so I can bring this part of my “Thranduil Saga” to a close.
> 
> The first part of that ‘saga’ is covered in my story “Lórinand Memoirs: The Bough Breaks” which has been posted but is still a ‘work in progress’ at this point. The final part of the ‘saga’ entitled “The Last Elvenking” is currently in handwritten rough draft format. It will be posted as I am able to edit.
> 
> It is now Summer and unfortunately, that means I will have less time to devote to my writing as I have other obligations that can be quite demanding. But that does not mean I will not be writing! Only that my updates will not be as frequent as I prefer. Thank you for your patience and understanding!


	25. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired yet exalted in the rescue of the Lady Tauriel, the elven forces return to their fortress home in the northeastern part of the forest. Still there are dark concerns that weigh heavy on the heart and mind of the king as he ponders what needs to be done to restore peace and order to the largest elven kingdom in Middle-Earth.

Struggling to maintain his normally stoic expression, Aldalómë pursed his lips tightly as he glanced toward Eluandúnië only to see that he was doing the same.  Shaking his head as they reined their mounts to a slightly slower pace, falling back from their positions as the kings’ escorts at the head of the long line of elven soldiers.

“He has finally found someone with a will to match his own.”  Eluandúnië chuckled quietly, his soft green eyes dancing with humor as the Chief March Warden guided his mount closer to him.

“ _Ay_ _ë_.” (Yes) Aldalómë replied, his blue eyes sparkling a bit.  “I think she will be good for him.”  He admitted, only somewhat surprised at himself as his thoughts turned to the first few moons after their return from Lórinand.

Thranduil was not his first lover, but he was his first real love and had remained such since then.  The death of King Oropher at Dagorlad during the Battle of the Last Alliance changed all their lives forever.  In the nearly three millennia since, Aldalómë had stepped back, content for the most part to love him from afar.  It had been difficult to watch as Thranduil struggled through his brief marriage before Athëálÿssíä finally gave in to the longings within her own heart and fled the kingdom, abandoning him and their son.  In his own way Aldalómë had also made peace with his unique relationship with Galion, the servant had been good for him over the many long years.  In spite of or perhaps because of their intimacy, there was a bond between them and he became the stable father figure Thranduil so desperately needed.

Now many leagues north of the dangers within the foothills of the Mirkwood Mountains, they remained vigilant, surveying their surroundings as they passed over grassy knolls and through meadows awash with the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.  Gentle breezes carried the mingled scents of the many fragrant florae that now covered much of the forest floor.  Squirrels playfully chased each other around the trunks of the various nut trees, even a doe and her fawn paused briefly to watch curiously as they passed.

“Tauriel!”  Thranduil hissed through clenched teeth as he leaned closer to her ear.  “I will not discuss this now.”  He stated, pulling her firmly against him as he tightened his arm around her waist.

“You will not?!”  She hissed back at him as she twisted in the saddle to meet his narrow angry gaze.

“Now is not the time.”  Thranduil told her quietly, steeling himself against the determination in the depths of her darkening eyes. 

“Now is the perfect time.”  Tauriel stated, lifting her chin slightly.  “We are doing nothing...”

“You need...”

“I am fine.”  She insisted, interrupting him angrily.  “Don’t treat me...”

“Damn it!”  Thranduil exclaimed more at himself in frustration as he leaned down, silencing her with a deep searching kiss.

Quickly averting his gaze on his approach, Rínnänéth’s brows shot upward as he guided his mount closer to Aldalómë.  A wide grin spread across his face as the March Wardens shook their heads and pulled back even further to give them a little more privacy.

“Tauriel please.”  Thranduil sighed heavily, pressing a gentle finger to her lips as he moved his kiss to her ear.  “I am weary of this, my only wish is to hold you.”  He said quietly as he nuzzled her hair, breathing in the scent of her.  “We will talk once we have properly rested, I promise.”

“I do not wish to cause you grief.”  She said quietly, reaching up to caress his cheek as she snuggled closer to him.  “Yet I can already sense that you want to smother me because of this.”  She continued, her eyes pleading with him as she gazed up at him.

“You must understand, you are asking the impossible of me if you think I will not worry.”  He said quietly, a slight frown creased his brow as he looked down at her, his fingertips lightly caressing her chin.  “I love you so much.”  His voice faded to almost a whisper as he pressed his lips gently to hers, kissing her tenderly.

“I love you too.”  Tauriel sighed, shifting herself in the saddle as she relaxed against his broad chest, savoring the feel of his strong arms around her.  Smiling softly to herself as she laced her fingers with his beneath the cloak he used to cover her tattered and bloodstained tunic.

“Tauriel, please.”  He whispered, struggling to conceal the groan in his voice as he adjusted himself slightly.

“What?”  She twisted around to look up at him, a slight frown creased her brow as she noted the slight flush on his neck just above his collar.

“You know perfectly well what.”  He told her quietly, narrowing his eyes slightly as he pulled her hips tightly against him, revealing the hard length of his desire.

“I am glad you’re feeling well enough to find the situation funny.”  He whispered, only mildly irritated at the soft sound of her muffled giggle.  “I will be gentle but I assure you, I look forward to a very long night.”  He continued, his lips brushing her ear as he leaned even closer.

“Send Evárÿan and his men to the fork to make sure the barges are ready.”  Aldalómë stated quietly, turning toward Eluandúnië.  Clearing his throat conspicuously as he nudged his mount toward Thranduil.

“We should reach the fork in the river within the hour.”  He said quietly as he moved alongside Thranduil.

“Yes.”  Thranduil nodded, a slight frown touched his brow as his gaze turned inward for a long moment.  “Send Captain Lárasarnë to notify your father of our arrival.  Tell him I wish to speak to him briefly in my study once Tauriel is settled.”

“As you wish.”  Aldalómë nodded, a smile spreading across his face, their eyes met briefly as he turned his mount back toward Rínnänéth.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

The primary duties of the forest patrols were to alert the main forces of any potential threat to the kingdom and act as a first defense, yet they could also be relied on to quickly spread any news of the goings on within the forest.   Captain Lárasarnë smiled broadly as he approached the enormous oaken doors of the kings’ stables.  Judging by the excitement in the air, he knew that word of the kings’ imminent arrival had already reached the fortress.

“How long?”  Faÿláën asked excitedly, grabbing the halter as the captain reined his mount to a quick halt inside the stables.

“They’re right behind me!”  He exclaimed as he all but leapt from the saddle and turned away from him.  He could hear the stable master barking orders as an organized chaos quickly erupted within the stables. 

Moving quickly, he disappeared through the archway leading deeper into their fortress home.  Struggling to keep from running, he moved swiftly through the labyrinth of tunnels toward the lower area reserved primarily for the royal family and honored guests in the southeastern most part of the fortress.

“Is Lord Garävegión in?”  He asked as he descended the stairs, taking them two at a time.  “I have a message from the King.”

“ _Ay_ _ë_ (yes), he is.”  Thalieth replied as he quickly turning to knock on the door of the kings’ public study.

“Come.”  Lord Garävegión called, leaning back in his chair as he glanced toward Galion who sat curled up in the huge chair in front of the hearth.

“ _Hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Captain Lárasarnë greeted him as he was ushered quickly inside.  “King Thranduil is shortly behind me and should be arriving at the stables momentarily.  He wishes to speak with you once the Lady Tauriel has been settled.”  He stated almost breathlessly, his gaze flickering between the Lord Regent and the servant.  A slight smile touched his lips as he noted the relief that washed over the servants' face.

“Excellent!”  Lord Garävegión exclaimed, a broad smile splitting his own handsome face as he rose to his feet.  “How are they?”  He could not resist asking as he glanced toward Galion.

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances.”  Captain Lárasarnë replied, well aware that he was referring to the king and Tauriel.  “Lady Tauriel’s injuries were dire when they found her.  Had it not been for the immediate care from Lord Ortäuré, we may have lost her.”  He told them quietly as he studied their faces, unreadable as they were for the most part.  “Healer Mírië is only concerned that they both be allowed to rest to regain their strength.”  He continued, his tone more encouraging.

“If you will excuse me.”  Galion said quietly as he uncurled himself from the chair.  “I need to see to certain preparations.”  He told them, nodding respectfully toward both before quickly slipping out of the study.

“I sense there is something else.”  Lord Garävegión stated as he stepped around the desk, moving toward the wine cupboard.

“ _Ay_ _ë, hîr vuin_.” (Yes, my lord).  Captain Lárasarnë sighed heavily, pausing as he shifted slightly beneath the Lord Regent’s hard gaze.

“There are also four prisoners.”  He stated, his discomfort evident in his tone.  “One of them is Lord Tirithiáël’s son Ortäuré.”

“And the others?”  Lord Garävegión asked, turning away from him to pour himself a goblet of something much stronger than hazelnut tea.

“Two are human bounty hunters.  The other is believed to be Eirik of Forodwaith.”  He stated, pausing as the Lord Regent swung around to face him, anger turning his normally soft slate blue eyes into hard chips of ice.

“How certain?”  Lord Garävegión asked quietly, struggling to control the rage that threatened to overtake him.

“Eluandúnië recognized the brand on his neck.”  Captain Lárasarnë replied, swallowing hard as he continued to meet the cold gaze.  “I think the king recognized it as well.”  He added quietly.

“Thank you, Captain, you may go.”  Lord Garävegión stated as he stared into the flames of the hearth.  Tipping the goblet to his lips as the door closed behind the captain, he drained the contents quickly and followed him.

“The king has returned.”  He informed the guard, pulling the door closed behind him.  “Inform him I have received his message and will return shortly.”  He stated, turning away from him without waiting for a reply.

Both anger and fear carried the Lord Regent quickly to the dungeons in the lowest levels of the fortress.  It had been many years since he had even thought of the slave traders of the north much less heard their names.  Ruthless creatures they were, filled with a hatred for elves that knew no bounds, hunting them down like animals only to sell them into a life of untold horrors.

“Nârdúal.”  His clear tone echoed throughout the cavernous space in the bowels of the fortress.  “I need a private word with you.”  He stated as he entered the guards’ quarters, his gaze flickered quickly over the two armed elves in the corner, hovering over a game of chess.

“Leave us.”  The dungeon master stated as he looked up from the papers on his desk.  “Close the door and keep watch from the lower level.”  He added, a deep frown creasing his brow as he noted the strange expression on the lords' face.

“The king has returned and he has brought four prisoners with him.”  Lord Garävegión told him as he began to pace, wringing his hands.  “I have been told there is one among them, a tall man with swarthy skin and hair as black as a moonless night.  He must be secured as far from the others as possible.”  He stated, turning to look at him.  “Lord Ortäuré is also among them.  You will ensure that his presence here remains unknown to his father.”

“Forgive me if I overstep.”  Nârdúal said quietly as he rose from behind his desk, he frown only deepening as he stepped closer to him.  “I have not seen you in such a state since King Oropher’s death.  Who is his man that brings such fear to your heart?”

“Nârdúal.”  He said quietly as he grasped his hands tightly.  “I trust you with my life but I cannot say until I have spoken to the king.”

“Alright, I will do as you ask.”  Nârdúal told him, squeezing his hands reassuringly.  “What of the other two?”  He asked, searching the lords’ distraught expression with concern.

“Human bounty hunters, scavenger filth who sell their services to the highest bidder.”  Lord Garävegión spat angrily, color staining his neck as he turned away from the dungeon master.  “The king is expecting to meet with me shortly in his study.”  He stated, turning back toward him as he reached the door.  “I will inform you of any specific instructions he may have for you.”

“I understand.”  Nârdúal said quietly, nodding thoughtfully as he watched him walk calmly out of the room.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“Thalieth.”  Thranduil greeted the longtime guard with a broad smile as he walked gracefully yet tiredly down the stairs leading to his private area.

“It is good to see you _hîr vuin_.” (My lord)  He smiled broadly, returning the strong embrace as the king hugged him.  “You are tired.”  He stated, concern now filling his dark green eyes as he pulled back, studying him.

“No worse for the wear.”  Thranduil chuckled as Thalieth opened the door to his study.  “I sent word I wanted to speak with Garävegión?”  He asked, arching a brow at him as he paused in the doorway.

“ _Ay_ _ë_. (Yes) He didn’t say where he was off to only that he would be right back.”  Thalieth told him.

Nodding, Thranduil turned away from him and walked toward his wine cupboard.  Frowning slightly as he noted the single goblet on the corner of his desk.  Touching the inside, the surface was still wet, telling him that Garävegión had only recently left the study.  Collecting a goblet from the cupboard, he poured himself an ample portion and walked behind his desk.  Taking a long drink as he sank into his chair, he closed his eyes, letting the sweet nectar flow through him yet well aware it would bring him no peace.

“Have you taken leave of your senses!?”

Thranduil’s eyes flew open as the door to his study slammed shut, his tired gaze falling on a very agitated Lord Garävegión.

“It is good to see you too.”  Thranduil stated as sarcastically as he could muster, narrowing his eyes as he reached for the wine carafe.

“If he is who you believe him to be...”

“I know precisely who he is which is why I brought him here.”  Thranduil continued in the same sarcastic tone as he refreshed his goblet and poured another for his Chief Advisor.  “And I know exactly what I am doing.  Glaurhalbër is returning to Erebor with his forces and he will be joined by Rínnänéth once he returns.  Lochinvar will not enter the forest.”

“How do you know this?”  Lord Garävegión asked, his tone was stern yet softer as he lowered his tall frame into the chair in front of the kings’ desk.

“Eirik will tell me nothing, but it matters not.”  Thranduil sighed heavily as he leaned back in his chair.  “His death will send a message his brother cannot ignore.”

“What are you talking about?”  Lord Garävegión asked as he picked up the goblet.

“They are few and for centuries Lochinvar and his men have feared the Woodland Realm.”  He stated, meeting the lords’ disapproving gaze evenly.  “Their only reason for venturing into our forest this time was the foolish promise of elven slaves and a kings’ ransom worth of gold.”

“Tirithiáël is not the only noble to have plotted against you over the years.”  Lord Garävegión said quietly, arching a challenging brow at him.  “Already there are whispers amongst some of the servants.”

“Let them talk.”  Thranduil growled, shaking his head.  “We have lived in relative peace from the outside world since Sauron was banished almost three millennia hence.  Mithrandir (Gandalf) was right, the slaying of Smaug was inevitable whether it be the dwarves seeking to restore their fallen kingdom or others greedy for the treasure hoard buried deep within the bowels of that wretched mountain.  It was at a great cost but this kingdom no longer lives with the fear cast by the shadow of the threat his wrath could bring and I will have peace restored again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry so long between posts! Unfortunately, this chapter is a little shorter than most, yet it was the best cutoff point. Hopefully, you’ll understand why once I post the next one! I’m working on winding this story to a close. This story is Part 2 in a three-part saga of Thranduils’ life.
> 
> I have already posted a number of chapters in Part 1: Lórinand Memoirs: The Bough Breaks. And need to devote more time in transcribing Part 3: The Last Elvenking, which is still partly in handwritten form.
> 
> I want to take a moment to expressly thank DeputyMom62, Oakel, HakunaMatata for faithfully following this story!! I also welcome my friend Hasasian as a new reader (and great writer) to this story! Thanks a million guys and gals! You keep me going!


	26. Fire & Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his love safe within the fortress, Thranduil must now deal with the internal conflict required in accordance with the laws of the realm. Taking it upon himself to exact a punishment that has never before been done within the Woodland Realm.

Turning at the slight sound of soft footsteps, Tauriel felt the sting of tears as her gaze fell upon the weary face of the one who held her heart.  A deep sadness filled his beautiful sapphire eyes as he gazed unseeing upon the tiny purple petals of the _Iridaceae_ , the King’s Flower.  A slight frown creased her brow as she watched him turn away from them, clasping his hands loosely behind him.  The pensive expression barely concealing the conflict within him as he cast his gaze upward at the towering stone carved arches of the Solarium, now heavily draped in long trailing vines of sweet smelling _H_ _ëder_ _â_.

Pausing briefly to collect himself as the sound of the soft rustle of the leaves of the tall _Wermuth_ ferns penetrated his thoughts, Thranduil turned to smile softly at her.  The sight of her filling him with joy as he watched her walk gracefully toward him, lifting from him the heavy weight of his dark thoughts. 

“I believe I told you to rest.”  He said quietly, his deep voice resonated with a soft lilt of humor as he folded her into a strong embrace.  Only slightly irritated at finding her in the Solarium, although it did not surprise him.

“I sensed a great heaviness in your heart when you left me. I knew you would come here before returning to me.”  Tauriel told him, her tone was soft as she twisted her face up toward him, the weariness now hidden behind the mask he so carefully crafted.  A soft smile curling his lips as he gently nuzzled her face.

“Ah Tauriel, my love.”  He breathed, his arms tightening around her as he pressed his face into her silken hair.  The scent of her filling him with the much needed comfort that only she could give him.  “It is only the battle I fight within myself that you sense.  In the coming days there are difficult things I will be forced to do, things with which I must first make peace.”

“Thranduil...”

“Shh, my love.”  He whispered as he sought the softness her lips, capturing her mouth in a long searching kiss.  “These are burdens I must bear alone yet know in your heart you are the source of the strength that will bear me through them.”  He told her quietly as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“You are never truly alone my love.”  She said softly, laying her head on his shoulder as he lifted her in his strong arms.

Smiling broadly, Thalieth looked up as the king strode purposefully through the archway into the spacious antechamber.  Schooling his expression quickly, the guard scrambled into the small alcove leading to the kings’ private chambers.  The broad smile split his face once more as he closed the thick oaken door quietly behind them, returning to his post just outside the kings’ public study.  It lightened his heart to see the king so happy again, it had been far too long.

“Tonight however.”  Thranduil stated, his smile coloring his tone with playfulness as he pressed his cheek against hers.  “I have other more pleasant things that require my attention.”  He told her, his long legs carrying them quickly passed the grand hearth in his public sitting room to his bedchamber.

Clinging to his neck as a myriad of butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach, Tauriel trembled in his arms.  Squirming as her body tingled, the tension throbbed suddenly and painfully between her legs, she smiled mischievously as she nuzzled closer to his neck.  Sucking the soft flesh of his earlobe between her lips, she smiled to herself as she both heard and felt his groan as it rumbled deep within his chest.

Lowering her gently to her feet beside the enormous four poster bed, he captured her mouth in a long searching kiss.  Deft fingers making quick work of the fastenings on her shoulders.  A soft sigh, sounding more like a groan escaped his lips as the simple summer gown slipped to the floor in a pile at her feet, followed quickly by his tunic.  Trailing his fingers teasingly upward along her spine, he tangled them in the mass of her long coppery tresses as he pulled her tighter against him, breathing in the scent of her. 

Reluctantly releasing her, he smiled curiously at the faint blush that stained her cheeks as he gently guided her onto the bed.  His gaze drifted admiringly over the sensual curves of her body as he unlaced his leggings, his desire already straining painfully against the unforgiving material.  Cradling her in his arms as he slipped into the bed with her, it felt as if time stood still allowing the world beyond his rooms to fall away as her presence both soothed and excited him.

Struggling for breath as his mouth possessed hers, Tauriel threaded her fingers in the silken mass of his long tresses as she pulled his face tighter against her own.  Returning his kiss with a hunger that came from her very soul as she felt the hard length of his desire pressing against her inner thigh.  Trembling beneath the demanding kiss, his searching tongue sought every crevice in her mouth, yet the gentle touch of fingertips against her heated flesh sent delicious shivers along her spine.

Surrendering to him utterly, Tauriel felt the last vestiges of the guilt slip away, letting go of the past.  Bathed in the warmth of the golden light that was him, Thranduil’s love had brought her back and she belonged only to him.  At the moment of her darkest hour, as she drifted between life and death, their souls had touched as their hearts entwined.  Somewhere on the fringes of her mind, she knew she would always treasure her friendship with Legolas and prayed that he would one day find his way to understand.    

With the ease of a master minstrel plucking the strings of a harp, his gentle fingers and warm lips played teasingly over her flesh as he took his time building the tension deep within her.  Her mouth opened in a mute cry as her body arched toward him in a silent plea for him to take her.  Breathlessly, her fingers clutched at the strong muscles of his shoulders as he trailed his kisses lower, lingering at the curve of her hip as he settled himself between her thighs.

Ragged cries laced heavily with urgency pulled from her throat as she felt the warmth of the tip of his tongue before his lips closed around her throbbing pearl.  Impatient moans filled the room as he teased her, bringing her so close yet denying her release as he slid his tongue along the full length of her sex, tasting every part of her.  Gasping as he returned his attention once more to the now swollen pearl, her fingers clawed at the soft covers beneath her as she thrust her hips harder against his mouth.

Smiling to himself, he cautiously replaced his tongue with a gentle finger as he moved up over her.  Slipping his free arm beneath her shoulders, he pressed his lips softly to hers, kissing her tenderly as he continued to pleasure her.

“There is so much more, ways I have yet not touched you.”  He whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.  “Ways that can pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams.”  He told her, pulling back slightly as he looked into the depths of her darkened emerald eyes.

“Trust me.”  He told her, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his lips to hers.  Smiling to himself as he felt her body tremble.  His kiss grew more searching as he moved further on top of her, using one knee to spread her thighs a little wider.  Teasing her swollen nub with his thumb, he dipped his little finger into the soft wet flesh.

“Relax.”  He whispered, feeling her stiffen slightly as he pressed the tip of his little finger up to the first knuckle into her rear entrance.  Turning his palm upward as he slipped his index finger into velvety softness of her sex, pressing upward, he felt for the small rounded muscle.  Stroking gently at first, he watched the play of expressions on her face, careful to cause her no discomfort as he slowly increased the pressure and rhythm.

“Oh!”  Tauriel exclaimed, staring up at him as her eyes widened.  Clinging to him breathlessly as her entire body jerked and shuddered uncontrollably.

“Relax, just let it happen.”  He whispered softly, his lips teasing the tip of her ear as he spoke.  Smiling to himself, he held her trembling body closer to him as felt the muscles of her sex flexing hard against his fingers.

“Oh my _Eru_! (God)  She breathed, clinging to him as the tension within her broke, her release leaving her shaking and trembling to her very core.

“I love you so much.”  He whispered, his lips brushing hers as he nuzzled her face.  “I did not realize just how much until I nearly lost you.”  He told her quietly as he moved over her, cradling her head in his hands.

“That is in the past, this is now.”  Tauriel told him softly, her heart still beating wildly as she raked her nails upward across his back.  “I need you.  Make love to me.”  She said, a teasing smile curled her lips as she rocked her hips upward against his lower belly.

“You never need to ask.”  He said quietly, his eyes sparkled down at her, his tone deepening as his desire flared painfully.

Capturing her mouth in a searching kiss, Thranduil’s arms tightened around her as he arched his back slightly before pressing forward.   Groaning softly, he molded his body against hers and entered her in a single smooth thrust.  Swallowing her moan as she rocked her hips forward, his kiss turned hungry.   Slowly rocking against her, he savored the feel of their union as she grew bolder, moving with him as they lost themselves in each other.

Pushing the darker thoughts aside, he allowed himself to get lost in the feel of her.  The softness of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the scent of her mingled with the lingering aroma of lilac and lavender was more intoxicating than any wine.  Clinging to her, he groaned deeply as his passion overtook him.  Trembling, he buried his face in the warmth of her neck as the tension within him broke, leaving him weakened as he thrust harder against her, filling her with his release.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Curled around her sleeping form, Thranduil stared unseeing into the glowing embers on the grate in the hearth.  Only a few small flames flickered along the charred remains of the logs, casting strange dancing patterns throughout the silent bedchamber.  A slight frown creased his brow as the earlier dark thoughts once again invaded his mind, shattering his carefully constructed façade of tranquility.  Carefully pulling free of their embrace, he drew the thin cover over her as he slipped from the bed.  Pausing briefly to smile down at her, Thranduil turned quickly toward his bathing chamber. 

Stepping down into the swirling water of his sunken tub, with great relief his thoughts turned to his son.  There had been a brief missive from Lord Elrond informing him Legolas had arrived in Imladris only three days after the confrontation he and Lady Gilaiwë had witnessed between him and Tauriel in the Solarium.  The elven path was generally considered safe and his son was an excellent archer and swordsman in his own right.  Still, alone in the forest he was no match for the likes of Lochinvar and his men.

Steeling himself for the task ahead of him, Thranduil bathed quickly and discarded the large soft towel onto a nearby chair as he returned to his bedchamber.  Allowing his mood to dictate his choice of attire, he selected a simple deep forest green tunic and black leggings.  He added the black silk sash at his waist as an afterthought, and quickly pulled on his soft leather boots.  The circlet felt heavy as he lowered it in place, casting a brief glance at himself in the polished glass on his dressing table.  A sharp pang pulled at him as he turned and walked toward the side of the bed, his gaze drifting over Tauriel’s sleeping form.  Chiding himself for lingering, he turned quickly away from her, striding purposefully through the large expanse of his public sitting room.

“Rûingäraf.”  He stated quietly yet clearly once he closed the doors to his private rooms.  “Send someone to find Evárÿan and Filârion.”  He continued as he emerged from the small alcove into the antechamber.

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord).  The evening guard stated as he turned toward him, his gaze flickered quickly over the kings’ length.

“They are to keep her in their sight at all times.”  Thranduil stated as he turned away from him toward the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste.

Silent in the early morning hours as he made his way deeper into the lower levels of the fortress, he struggled to contain the anger that threatened to erupt from within him.  Entering the slightly more narrow passages leading to the dungeons, he smiled as he returned the respectful nods of the guards.

“Take me to Tirithiáël.”  He said quietly as he reached the guard at the final gate.

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord).  The guard replied, nodding as he reached for the keys at his waist.

“Lock it.”  Thranduil instructed him as the guard stared at him questioningly once they stepped through the archway.  “The rules are in place for a reason and I will not have you break them on my behalf.”  He added quietly, a slight smile softening his harsh tone.

Easily navigating the intricate maze of tunnels designed to confuse and disorient those who would attempt an escape from his dungeons, Thranduil followed the guard in silence.  The distant sounds of the river flowing beneath the fortress echoed throughout the cavernous space below, assisting in muffling the sound of their footsteps as they moved toward the group of cells where Nârdúal had housed Tirithiáël.

Motioning for the guard to halt as they reached the landing, Thranduil continued silently toward the door, yet remained within the shadows.  Clasping his hands behind him, he paused for long moments as he studied the now disgraced elf.  A member of the second sojourn east, he knew Tirithiáël had never truly accepted the established monarchy within the Woodland Realm.  Still, he managed to somehow endear himself to his father, an endeavor that unfortunately rewarded him with a title and the kings’ ear.

“Have you come to gloat or just stand there like a fool?”  Tirithiáël asked quietly, his long black tresses slipping over his shoulder as he turned his guarded dark blue eyes toward the shadows just beyond the door of his cell.

“If you expected to see me cowering...”

“I expected nothing Tirithiáël.”  Thranduil stated, interrupting him as he stepped closer, his stoic expression revealing nothing of the anger that raged within him at the mere sight of him.

“Since the days of my father, I watched you covet that which you cannot understand the price that has been paid for it.”  Thranduil continued quietly, one corner of his lips lifted in a mocking smile.  “Even he was not blinded to your plotting and scheming.”

“This is not over.”  Tirithiáël continued, keeping his tone quiet as he struggled to control the fear growing in his gut. 

“Oh but I assure you it is.”  Thranduil told him, arching a brow as he watched the slight color creep into the former lords’ cheeks.

“Spoken with the misplaced arrogance of a bastard king.”  Tirithiáël chuckled, yet the sound echoed with a hollow ring.  “You still do not understand do you?”

“Please, enlighten me.”  Thranduil shrugged, yet tilted his head as if he were truly interested in whatever revelation might be forthcoming.

“You are nothing but a half breed just like your father.”  Tirithiáël stated, his tone deepening as he felt himself losing the struggle to control his anger.  “A properly arranged marriage for the prince would have secured the Sindar lineage.  You will only further diminish the true blood of the crown with your lust for that common Silvan elf.”

“The time of separating ourselves according to bloodlines ended long ago on the plains of Dagorlad.”  Thranduil stated, his gaze cold and unreadable as the carefully constructed mask hid the hatred he felt for the elf.

“On the morrow Lord Garävegión will call the remaining council members for a tribunal.”  He continued, his tone taking on the more authoritative tone of his position as he refused to look away from him.  “You will be formally charged with the crime of high treason, for which the penalty is death.  Should they agree, it will be their stones that cast your fate.”

“There is none among you who would dare risk the stain of a Kinslaying.”  Tirithiáël hissed as he stepped closer to the bars of his cell.

“I will allow you the final honor of a dual to the death.”  Thranduil stated, stepping closer to him yet remaining beyond his reach.  “Trust me when I tell you I will not make a martyr of you Tirithiáël, I will kill you.  Your prejudices will die with you.”  He told him before turning on his heel, striding purposefully toward the upper levels of the dungeons.

“Take me to where you are keeping Ortäuré.”  He stated as they reached the gate, his tone far more calm then he felt.

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord)  The guard replied as he unlocked the gate.  “He is not far.”

Nodding, Thranduil followed him in silence as they headed toward the eastern passages.  Further into the depths of the labyrinth, the sounds of the river below were heard more clearly.  Carved in a mirror image that only enhanced the confusion of anyone not familiar with dungeons, they descended once more to a larger group of similar cells.

“ _Hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Lord Ortäuré stated, bowing respectfully as the king stepped within view just beyond the bars of his cell.

Staring at him for long moments, Thranduil saw nothing but a defeated elf.  Many questions still plagued him yet as he gazed into the empty eyes, he knew he would not find the answers he sought.

“I will not pretend to understand nor can I accept what you have done.”  He stated quietly, still studying him.  “However, as it is within my power to decide your fate.  I will give you the same mercy you gave her.  I will give you a chance to live.  I will spare your life.  In return you have forfeited your title and all that entails.  Three days hence, you will be escorted to the western edge of the forest and forever banished from these lands.”

“I accept your mercy _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Ortäuré replied quietly, bowing his head even lower.  “What of Oviëdó?”  He asked, pulling himself erect yet kept his gaze lowered.

“I will speak with him personally.”  Thranduil told him.  “If I am satisfied that he knows nothing, I will spare him banishment.”

“That is all I ask _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  He sighed, his shoulders slumping.  Closing his eyes to hide the tears, he heard the soft footsteps as the king departed without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Comments are always welcome!


	27. The Death of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Struggling with his thirst for vengeance, Thranduil must now find the strength to put aside his personal feelings and balance the need for justice. Will the council agree and vote Lord Tirithiáël guilty of high treason?

Cleric Séonäis stood silently in the shadows of the Sanctuary observing the motionless figure of the Elvenking as he stood before the hearth, his gaze distant almost vacant as he stared into the flames.  Even dressed in a simple blue tunic and dark leggings, with his shoulders squared, his fingers laced loosely at the small of his back, his regal stature filled the room.  It was only their mutual gift of empathy that enabled the cleric to feel his presence, but it was the pain in his heart that had summoned him.

“I have witnessed too many of my people slaughtered at the hands of our enemies.”  Thranduil spoke softly, making no gesture to outwardly acknowledge the clerics’ presence.  “In the heat of battle I avenged their deaths without thought or concern for the consequences of my own.”  He said as he closed his eyes against the images that tormented his _fäë_ (soul).

“The taking of a life carries consequences no matter the reason.”  Séonäis said quietly as he stepped from the shadows to join him before the hearth.  “Long ago, when the weight of that crown was set upon your head, you swore an oath as the guardian and protector of this realm.  An oath you have never once questioned until now.”

“I sense a great conflict within you, it is different for you this time.”  He continued after long moments of silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

“I cannot hide behind an oath this time.”  Thranduil sighed heavily, finally turning to look at the cleric.  “As much as I believe Tirithiáëls’ hands are stained with the blood of Afÿmrails’ death as if he had taken his life with his own hands, I cannot set aside my personal feelings, neither can I ask this of another.”

“Your _mëâtrú_ (Note) is strong Thranduil, almost too strong.”  He stated, a slight smile touched his lips as he returned the kings’ gaze with a comfort rare few enjoyed.  “How many of those lives did you avenge yet many of them you knew not even their name?”

“That is of no matter, they were my people.”  Thranduil told him, his brow knitted in concern as he studied the clerics’ face.  “I did not need to know them personally to exact justice for them.”

“Thranduil _ion nîn_ (my son).”  Séonäis sighed softly, his pale green eyes continued to smile as he watched the play of expressions chase themselves across the kings’ normally stoic face.  “Do you believe Tauriel to be less deserving of justice because your love for her stirs vengeance in your heart?”

“How can I see this any other way when there is a hatred that burns in my heart for what he has done?”  He stated more than asked, his shoulders slumping somewhat as he turned back toward the hearth.  “It is a hate that threatens to consume me, not only for Tauriel, but for my son, for all of my people.  I cannot ignore the fact that he would consort with the likes of Lochinvar against his own kind.  How can I protect them when the very evil that threatens them festers amongst us?  For that there burns not a need to avenge but a desire to kill him, something I have never felt before.”

“It is good that you recognize these feelings, accept them if you can but you must not allow your personal feelings to blind you to your oath.”  Séonäis told him, clasping his shoulder firmly.  “All your life you have hidden your true self from the world.  A king you may be in the eyes of those to whom you have sworn to protect and defend but you are still no less a child of _Eru_ (God).  Among the many gifts he has bestowed upon us, the ability to feel is perhaps the greatest gift of all.”

“Why does it seem more of a curse?”  Thranduil sighed, dropping the stoic mask of indifference as he studied the cleric.

“It only seems that way to you Thranduil because you have a good heart.”  He told him, his soft green eyes twinkled approvingly as he squeezed his shoulder.  “Our feelings are what guide us through this life.  They are the root of our ability to know and understand the difference between right and wrong, good and bad.  Your anguish in this reveals the depth of compassion within you because you understand the consequences of your actions.”

“My anguish is deepened because I do not know what I would have done if I had lost her.”  Thranduil said quietly, a slight tremble laced his voice as he spoke.

“You will go on as you always have.”  Séonäis stated, patting his cheek in paternal affection.

Frowning slightly as he watched the old cleric turn away from him, disappearing into his private rooms within the Sanctuary.  Thranduil stood there in silence as he pondered his words, more than a little disturbed by the peculiar sense of foreboding in them.  A slight movement at the door interrupted his thoughts as he turned to see Garävegións’ personal servant.

“ _Hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Kérÿth greeted him, nodding respectfully.  “The council has adjourned until after the midday meal.   Lord Garävegión has ordered it brought to your private dining area and wishes for you to join him.”

“Of course.”  Thranduil stated, shaking himself as he quickly pulled down the familiar mask of indifference.  “Thank you Kérÿth.”  He said quietly, smiling at him as he strode purposefully passed him.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Dismissing the kitchen staff once the trays were delivered, Galion hurriedly went about the task of arranging the platters on the sideboard and setting the table personally.  In honor of his first full meal since their return, Alythiyiá had prepared many of Thranduils’ favorites, catering to his preference of meatless entrees, saucy dishes and pastries.  Filling the goblets with his favorite Dorwinion wine, he set the carafe in the center of the table and stood back to survey his handiwork.

“It does not need to be perfect.”  Thranduil commented quietly from the entrance where he leaned against the door frame, a slight smile curling his lips as Galion turned quickly toward him.

“I will be the judge of that.”  He retorted, arching a brow as his gaze flickered disapprovingly over the kings’ choice of attire.  Always fastidious in his personal appearance, Galion found it extremely odd to see him once again dressed in a simple tunic and leggings.  The silver circlet adorning his head was all that signified his status.

“Where has my fussy little prince gone?”  He chided him, the humor in his smiling green eyes belying his stern tone as Thranduil walked over to him.

“Galion...”

“Oh shush.”  He stated, impulsively reaching over to adjust the deep blue sash at Thranduils’ waist.  “I was rather fond of my little peacock.”  He added almost absently as he tugged slightly at the light blue tunic, loosening it more comfortably around his waist.

“That little prince is only slightly more than a memory _mellon nîn.” (_ My friend)  Thranduil said quietly as he grasped his hands to stop him from fussing over him.  “Together we have endured much change in our world over the many long years since then.”  He continued, his tone almost distant as if he spoke out loud to himself.  “But know this.”  He stated, his tone becoming more firm as he lifted Galions’ hands to his lips and looked into his eyes.  “No matter what happens, you are my anchor, you have always been and ever shall you be that for me.” 

Frowning inwardly, he studied the stormy sapphire eyes that he alone understood.  Gifted only with simple elven magic to sense the energies around him, Galion knew not why he sensed the shifting within his beloved king yet felt him close himself from him.

“Thranduil don’t...”

“I must.”  Thranduil interrupted him, a broad smile stretching his lips as he pulled him into his arms.  “I am not leaving you.  There are things that must come to pass and I will not burden you with them.”

Clearing his throat conspicuously, Lord Garävegión shifted uncomfortably, waiting patiently as Thranduil hugged the servant tighter for a moment longer before releasing him.  Resisting the urge to smile, he noted the slight blush on Galions’ cheeks as he stepped back from the king.

“ _Hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Galion stated, nodding respectfully toward the Chief Advisor.  “If you will excuse me, I have other matters that require my attention.”  He continued in his customary official tone as he turned away from them.

“He tries to hide it, but he was beside himself the whole time you were gone.”  Lord Garävegión said quietly, pausing briefly as he watched the servant stride confidently across the antechamber before closing the door.

“It is difficult for both of us.”  Thranduil said more to himself as he picked up the goblet, staring into dark liquid.  “He has been my anchor since I can remember.”  He sighed heavily as he lifted it to his lips, taking a long drink.

“Jôsidëáh informed me the last of the healers have returned from Lake Town.”  Lord Garävegión commented absently, changing the subject as he picked up one of the plates.  “He seems quite satisfied the human healers have been adequately trained to recognize and treat this sickness should it rear its head in the future.”  He continued as he filled his plate from the sideboard where Galion had meticulously laid out the platters of food for them.

“Yes, I spoke with him on my way to the Sanctuary.”  Thranduil said quietly, gathering a plate as he followed him to the sideboard.  “Tërÿani is recovering well but Häëmir is still very weak from the wound sickness.”

“I received a dispatch this morning from King Bard of Dale.”  Lord Garävegión stated, seating himself at the small table. “It would seem word spread quickly as to what sent the Elvenking and most of his forces marching toward the foothills of the Mirkwood Mountains.”  He paused briefly, glancing up as Thranduil seated himself opposite him.  “He wants to speak you about continuing the garrison outside of Esgaroth until they can better establish order in Lake Town.”

“I have no intentions of withdrawing the garrison.”  Thranduil stated quite pointedly, a sudden surge of anger coloring his tone.  “In fact I plan on doubling it.”  He continued as he drizzled the cream sauce over the baked eggplant.  “Once we have dealt with the matter at hand I will be more than happy to discuss the situation with him.”

“If what Nârdúal tells me is true, you have already made up your mind.”  Lord Garävegión said, his gaze flickered quickly over Thranduils’ stern expression.

“I have.”  He stated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he briefly glanced toward his Chief Adviser.  “It is why I chose not to attend the council meeting this morning.  I fear my presence would have unduly influenced those who may still feel some form of allegiance to him.”

“You have the authority...”

“But not the right.”  Thranduil interrupted him quietly but firmly as he reached for the carafe.  “I do not think my father truly believed a decision such this would ever have been brought before him.  I cannot help but feel such a decree was influenced by the Kinslayings and his personal feelings toward the Silvan elves.”  He told him, refilling both of their goblets.

“I did not form the council as a means of forsaking my sworn oath.”  He continued thoughtfully as he leaned back in his chair.  “I will not be driven to the renunciation of this monarchy nor will I abdicate in favor of my son.”

“So it is true.”  Lord Garävegión sighed, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table.  “You intend to kill him yourself.”  He stated, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I intend more than that.”  Thranduil replied, his normally clear sapphire eyes now darkening to a deep stormy gray as he stared back at his Chief Advisor.  “The crime of high treason is not merely a crime against the crown.  Through his betrayal, Tirithiáël has shown himself to be a traitor to the people of this realm.  I have been aware of his feelings toward me for many years.  It was only my weakness that allowed his hatred of me to fester and it nearly cost Tauriel her life.”

“What do you mean by more?”  Lord Garävegión asked, a sinking feeling twisted in his lower belly.

“I intend to set the bounty hunters free.”  Thranduil stated, his tone deepening to almost a growl.  “After they have witnessed the death of Eirik.  I believe they know where Lochinvar has gone and I want them to take him a message that I do not fear him.”

“You will do nothing but antagonize him!”  Lord Garävegión exclaimed angrily as he pushed himself up from the table. 

“I have no choice!”  Thranduil retorted, his own anger rising as he watched him wringing his hands as he pace anxiously back and forth before the small hearth.  “If I do nothing Lochinvar will return, you know this.”

“We must handle this with diplomacy.”  Lord Garävegión stated as he stopped pacing to stare at him.

“Out of the question!”  Thranduil hissed as he nearly leapt from the chair.  “That filth knows nothing of diplomacy!”

“Eirik is not just another of his henchmen.”  Lord Garävegión stated, struggling to contain both his anger and the fear that rose like bile from deep within his gut.  “They are brothers.  He will be willing to talk if he thinks it will save his life.”

“They are the last of the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_.” (Note)  He continued, his tone softening only somewhat in the face of Thranduils’ shocked expression.  “It is the deep disgust for that half of themselves and the one who made them that drives them to hunt and enslave elves.  Killing Eirik will only send him into a rage and he will return with more forces than we are prepared to deal with.”

“I believed them to be long dead.”  Thranduil said quietly, the color draining from his face as his gaze flickered wildly about the room.

“Legends say Annûmëä gave them no choice to deny their elvish blood.”  Lord Garävegión told him as he turned away from him to stare into the flames of the hearth.  “They formed an alliance with him, the necromancer of Carn Dûm.  If they served him, in time they could earn the right to choose a mortal life and die a natural death as do all humans.  Unfortunately he was destroyed before he could grant them that choice.  Ever since they have roamed the wooded realms of _Arda_ (the world) seeking their revenge against all elves.”

Turning from the hearth as a soft knock on the door interrupted the long uncomfortable silence that filled the room, Lord Garävegión met the kings’ uncertain gaze with apprehension.

“Come.”  Thranduil stated quietly yet clearly as he turned toward the door.

“ _Hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Kérÿth spoke quietly, nodding respectfully toward the king, his gaze flickered curiously toward Lord Garävegión.  “I wish to inform you the council has returned and await your arrival.”

“Thank you Kérÿth.”  He spoke softly, struggling to control the fear that had settled deep within him.

Glancing briefly toward Garävegión, Thranduil strode purposefully into the broad expanse of the antechamber.  The soft leather of his boots made no sound as he walked across the mosaic stone floor toward the council chamber.  Nodding in acknowledgement of the guards posted at each side of the wide double doors, he walked silently to his seat at the head of the long oval table.

“I trust you have all had time to consider the matter at hand.”  Lord Garävegión stated, taking his position behind his chair at Thranduil’s right as the doors closed.

Grasping the back of the chair, his gaze drifted over their faces as they waited for the king to take his seat.  While many glanced quickly at the king, their expressions were unreadable for the most part as a heavy anxiousness filled the room.  Never in the history of the realm had they ever been asked to cast a vote in the matter of life or death for one of their own.

“The chair is yours.”  Thranduil stated, nodding toward the Chief Advisor as he turned away from them, walking the short distance to the large hearth.

Staring into the flames, he could still feel the emotions of the council members buffeting against him.  Closing the threads to protect himself, he could not feel them.  The casting of stones had been used for centuries to cast their votes, white for yay and black for nay.  Customarily they would simply cast their choice into the tray in the center of the table, this vote was different.  It would be the first time their votes would be cast in secret.

Listening intently to the sounds around him, Thranduil could hear the soft swish of their robes as they moved toward the front of the council chamber.  The polished stones clinked softly as each one reached into the bowls, collecting a stone in each hand.  Crafted quickly to necessitate the need for secrecy, two tall wooden boxes stood in the corner requiring each council member to place both hands into the holes to drop their stone out of view.  The first box contained their vote while the second contained the discarded stone.

Sighing heavily as the last of the council members returned to their seats around the table, Lord Garävegión paused for long moments before opening the front of the box.  Reaching inside, he stirred the stones before retrieving the bowl.  Pouring the contents into the tray on the table, his gaze fell on the single black stone.

“The vote of guilty has been cast.”  He stated calmly, although his heart sank.  “So say you all?”  He asked as he looked up, scanning the faces around the table.

Silence filled the room for long moments as Thranduil stood there waiting for one of them to say something to disagree.  No one said anything as he stared into the flames, feeling the weight of what was now required of him.  Turning on his heel, he walked calmly from the council chamber without looking at any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nördyqûi – The children born of captive human women to Annûmëä, known as the necromancer of Carn Dûm during the latter days of the First Age.  
> Mëâtrú – a personal code as defined by the individuals’ ideas and beliefs based on their ethics and morals   
> As always, thanks for reading!! Comments are always welcome!


	28. Vengeance Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Thranduil seeks the comfort and advice of the Spirit if the Forest, Tauriel gets a slight glimpse into his past and the price paid for a crown he never wanted.

Guarding her thoughts carefully as she watched Tauriel’s restless pacing before the hearth, Lady Gilaiwë rested a curled forefinger against her lips to keep from smiling.  The young _elleth_ did not know her well enough to understand or appreciate the strange humor she saw in the situation.  It would not do Thranduil any good for her to allow her to become even more agitated, particularly regarding the past.

“ _Oh my child_.”  She sighed to herself as Tauriel paused to stare up at the high ceiling, her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts.  “ _If you only knew the depths to which he truly loves you_.”

“I don’t understand!”  Tauriel exclaimed, her eyes flashing like brightly polished emeralds as she turned toward the irritatingly calm elf.  “Why does he push me away when he does not need to bear this weight alone?!”  She stated more than asked, her gown swirling as she continued her relentless pacing.

“Tauriel...”

“Argh!”  Tauriel growled, the elf’s motherly tone grated on her already stretched nerves.  “Stop coddling me!”  She nearly screamed as she swung to face the older elf angrily.  “Why does he confide in you yet he turns away from me?  What does he seek from you that he cannot have from me?”

“ _Now the truth comes out_.”  Gilaiwë mused silently, lifting a brow as she studied the young _elleth_.

“There is still much of Thranduils’ past you do not know and it is as it should be.”  Gilaiwë said quietly, her eyes narrowed slightly as she met Tauriel’s angry gaze with a strong will of her own.  “Still, I do not deny we were once lovers, but that was a long time ago.”

“So long ago he sought the comfort of your arms when he found me in Lórinand?”  Tauriel spat, her hands clenched in fists at her sides.  Her anger rising, yet she cringed inwardly as she heard the sound of her jealousy ringing all too clearly in her tone.

“He had not yet acknowledged it himself, it was then I knew he was in love with you and our time had ended.  It was as it should be.”  Gilaiwë replied quietly, unable to stop the soft smile curling the corners of her lips.  “He has made his choice, there is no room in his heart or his bed for another.”  She added in a slightly firmer tone.

“You felt his bond with you weaken until only a single thread remains to bind you to him.”  Gilaiwë stated softly, yet she fueled it with the power of her gift as she watched the young elleth’s expression change to one mingled with shock and amazement.

“I...”

Tauriel fell silent, staring at the small silver haired elf as a myriad of emotions washed over her, weakening her knees as she clasped her breasts as if to protect her heart.  A choked gasp escaped her lips as feelings of abandonment, torment, and fear that staggered her.  As if the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders, feelings of deep love, matched only by equal depths of pain, loss and anguish filled her.

“It is alright.”  Gilaiwë whispered as she quickly reached her side, guiding her toward one of the tall wing backed chairs in front of the hearth.

“It is not my place to reveal these things to you.”  She continued as she turned away from her, collecting the small kettle from its hook near the flames.  “I will tell you only what I have told his son.”  She stated as she poured them both another cup of the sweet tea.

Trembling, Tauriel watched in awe as the once seemingly fragile looking elf walked gracefully back to the chair she had previously occupied, curling her small frame into it.  Unbidden, many childhood memories flooded her mind, mostly of the stories Thranduil had read to her.  Stories of the powers of the _Vanyar_ , stories she once believed to be mere fairytales meant to entertain the inquisitive minds of children.

“In those days when he lived with us among the Vellanräé and Malinornë trees, he was young and so full of life.”  She said almost wistfully as she picked up her teacup, pausing to sip it as she watched Tauriel.  “We were very different from the world of his father and he was so curious, wanting to learn everything.”  She chuckled almost to herself as she smiled at Tauriel.

“The world was innocent in those days.”  She sighed, her expression belying the soft tone of her voice.  “Thranduil took many lovers as did others, but he never gave his heart.  We cared not for the orthodox ways of those who would seek to govern all elves.  We lived by the right of free will, it is a gift from _Eru_ (God) himself and no one has the right to take it away.  Thranduil took those beliefs with him when he returned to his fathers’ halls.”

“There are so few left to speak of his past.”  Tauriel said quietly, her gaze studying the small elf.  “I have heard the tales of dissonance between him and his father during his youth.  The reasons were never explained.”

“They were very different, he and his father.”  Gilaiwë told her, an odd expression flickered quickly over her face.  “I never agreed with Oropher, but I understood him.  Many _Teleri_ of that time, many among the Sindar were bitter over the Kinslayings.  It is why they chose to make the journey east following the War of Wrath.  Oropher had lost sight of the natural order of things, he left Doriath and began to shun those who did not seem to fit into his world.  Thranduil was too much like his mother and there were many disagreements between them.  In many ways he was still so young when he lost his father at Dagorlad.  When I saw him next, he was no longer the Thranduil I once knew, in his place stood a king.”

“I would like to have known him then.”  Tauriel said quietly, almost to herself as she looked back toward the flames in the hearth.  “I remember as a child, his visits to ward.  He truly cared about us and always made time for those lost with no kin.  He would often read me stories here in this very room but they were always happy fairytales of silly adventures that I know now were meant to protect me from the ugliness of the outside world.”

“But I am no longer that child.”  She stated more firmly, turning her attention back to Gilaiwë, seeing her in a different light yet unwilling to allow Thranduil to endure this weight alone.  “I have felt the evil lurking in the forests of the south and seen with my own eyes the horrors of battle, the senseless deaths and broken _fäë_ (souls) left in its wake.  How can you expect me to sit back now and do nothing?”

“You must understand.”  Gilaiwë sighed heavily, pulling deep within herself for strength.  “Even if he takes you as his wife, Thranduil will always belong to all of the people of the Woodland Realm.  This is the part of him you must learn to accept.”

“If that is my future, then I should stand beside him.”  Tauriel insisted, her eyes narrowing once more as she met her gaze evenly.

“Not in this.”  Gilaiwë stated, only slight more harshly than she intended.  “Tirithiáëls’ traitorous act has revealed to him his worst fears, the stronger the bond between you, the greater the threat to you and this kingdom.  You can serve him best by being the anchor he so desperately needs.  What he must do now comes with acceptance and the knowledge that the consequences of his decisions are his and his alone to bear.  If you cannot accept this, then you have already failed him.”

“ _It is only the battle I fight within myself that you sense.  In the coming days there are difficult things I will be forced to do, things with which I must first make peace.  These are burdens I must bear alone yet know in your heart you are the source of the strength that will bear me through them_.”  A deep frown knitted Tauriel’s brow as Thranduil’s words haunted her.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Standing silently in the lengthening shadows within the small grove of pine trees, Aldalómë and the others kept a respectful distance as they stood watch over their king.  The wooded areas near the fortress were considered relatively safe, yet his anxiety grew as the sun slowly sank behind the jagged peaks of the Misty Mountains.  Stiffening, he felt his skin prickle slightly as the warm summer breeze shifted, the gentle crisp rustling sound of dry autumn leaves swirled around him.  Watching in awe, his eyes widened as the soft yet eerie glow slowly filled the grove.

Aldalómë felt his heart tighten in his chest as he watched Thranduil’s brooding expression fade to one of childlike innocence.  Entranced, those sapphire eyes smiled into the soft glow that now engulfed him, envisioning what only his eyes could see, he never looked more beautiful.

“ _My dear child, why do you wait until your heart is so heavy to come to me_?”  The musical voice of _Ithuri_ echoed softly through his mind as she wrapped him in her comforting embrace.

“I am so tired Mother.”  Thranduil sighed mentally, a trembling smile touched his lips as hot tears blurring his vision now slipped freely down his cheeks.  “I fear my heart now battles with reason and blinds me to what is required of me.”

“ _In winter the forest sleeps, the seeds of autumn rest, waiting for renewal in the spring_.”  The soft motherly tone swirled in his thoughts.  “ _Too long have you toiled with fleeting moments like the sands of the hourglass, all things will come to pass according to balance._ ”  She said quietly, her embrace tightening only slightly.

“Seeds, like the dreams of elves, dwarves, and man are known to wither as the forest slumbers in winter.”  Thranduil replied, a deep frown creasing his otherwise smooth features.

“ _Wither_?”  She asked, a slight lilt of humor danced in her musical voice.  “ _I think not!  As one dream fades so another is born, just as some seeds come forth in the spring, others nourish the forest and feed all who dwell beneath the boughs.  Remember my child, there is a season for all things, each completing the cycle of life._ ”

“Then it is decided.”  Thranduil sighed, a rueful smile touching his lips as he finally opened himself completely to her.

“ _Your path has never been easy my child_.”  She told him quietly, strengthening her aura around him.  “ _Know in your heart, I did not chose you to allow you to fail_.”

Basking in the warmth of her comforting embrace, Thranduil allowed himself the pleasure of her maternal embrace.  Poignant yet fleeting memories and feelings crept up from the dark recesses of his _fäë_ , reminding him from where had come and toward what purpose he must now see to its end.  The stones cast into the pool were not by his hand, yet the rings now call upon him to right the wrongs left in their wake.

Blinking as her soothing presence left him, Thranduil found a measure of contentment as he felt the weight of his decision slowly drift from him on the gentle summer breeze.  The soft rustling sound of her departure fading into the depths of the forest, the eerie glow gradually dimmed yet her essence remained with him.  His _fäë_ placated, the heaviness in his heart lightened, he slowly pushed himself up from his perch on the stone outcrop.

“I have made up my mind.”  He stated, his long stride carrying him quickly to where Aldalómë awaited.  “Where is Tauriel?”  He asked, taking the reins from the March Wardens hand.

“In your chambers with Lady Gilaiwë.”  Aldalómë replied, schooling his expression yet his eyes danced with humor as he met the kings’ gaze.  “We thought it best as she ordered guards to leave her alone and they were more than happy to oblige her by keeping their distance.”

“She did?”  Thranduil nearly blurted, a broad smile spreading quickly across his face.  “I am sure I will have much explaining to do.”  He chuckled as he swung his long frame gracefully into the saddle.

Taking the lead as the other March Wardens fell into place behind him, lost in his own thoughts Thranduil remained silent.  He knew in his mind Garävegión was right, yet anger still burned in his heart as he remembered the stories of the legendary cruelty of the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_.  Now was not the time to show weakness, there had to be another way to deal with Eirik without antagonizing Lochinvar.  Tirithiáël however was another matter.  No longer hidebound by his own indecision, justice for Tauriel and Afÿmrail would be swift.

“Inform your father that I wish to speak with him in my public study.”  Thranduil stated, turning toward Aldalómë as they reached the enormous oaken doors of the kings’ stables.  “There are personal matters I must attend to this evening and I do not wish to be disturbed.”  He added, a slight smile curling his lips as the doors swung open to greet them.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Anxious, Thranduil fidgeted with the small buttons on the cuff of his tunic as he waited for the jeweler to reappear from the small workshop in the back of his office.  Unable to resist smiling as he wished he could have witnessed her tantrum earlier, admittedly he was not at all surprised, Tauriel had often complained that he was suffocating her.

“Here we are, _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Ercâssë stated, smiling excitedly as he emerged from his shop.  “When you first described the simplicity of your design, I thought it should have been much more eloquent considering its purpose.  But I admit it turned out rather nicely if I must say so myself.”

“Nicely?”  Thranduil echoed the word softly, his eyes widening as stared down at the small ring now resting in the palm of the jewelers' hand.  “Ercâssë!”  He exclaimed, picking it up gently.  “It is beautiful!”

Slipping it onto his little finger, he smiled as it caught on his second knuckle, going no farther.  Leaning toward the soft glow of the lantern, he openly admired silversmiths’ craftsmanship at capturing the texture of the tree branches woven into a delicate band.  Cut in the likeness of the leaves of the many trees of the forest, the tiny emeralds winked up at him as they reflected the light.

“It’s perfect!”  He exclaimed, handing it back to the now beaming jeweler.

“As requested, I have told no one.”  Ercâssë said quietly, his face nearly splitting as he smiled up at the king as he slipped the ring back into the small silk pouch.  “I wouldn’t want to ruin your surprise _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  He added with a conspiratorial wink as he handed it to him.

“I was not worried Ercâssë.”  Thranduil chuckled, winking back at him as he turned toward the door.  “Thank you.”  He added over his shoulder as he paused briefly before making his way quickly to the upper levels.

Collecting himself as he approached the guards, he nodded politely toward them as they bowed respectfully.  Slowing his stride somewhat as the huge stone door was lifted, granting him entry into the area of the fortress reserved for the royal family.

“Lord Garävegión already awaits you _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Rûingäraf informed him as he nearly skipped down the steps into the spacious antechamber.

“Lady Gilaiwë is still with her.”  Lieutenant Berÿlan said quietly, noting the kings' glance toward the door of his personal chambers.  “It has been quiet for the last few hours.”  He added as the king turned to look at him.

“Both of you.”  Thranduil stated, glancing toward Lieutenant Evárÿan as he clasped Lieutenant Berÿlan’s shoulder.  “Go home, I will see you here in the morning.”  He added, patting his shoulder as he turned toward his public study.

“I have given great thought to our discussion.”  He stated as Rûingäraf pulled the door of his study closed behind him.  “Reluctantly I agree with you.  My reluctance is not that I think you are wrong.”  He continued as he walked toward the wine cupboard.  “Quite the contrary, it is only because I cannot kill Lochinvar as well and be rid of their filth.”  His tone growing slightly agitated as he poured them both a small goblet of Brandy.

“What do you plan to do with him?”  Lord Garävegión asked, arching a brow as he accepted the goblet.

“Tirithiáël’s promise of gold and elven slaves has made them forget their fear of these forests.”  Thranduil stated as he made himself comfortable in the tall wing backed chair opposite him.  “It is up to me to restore that fear.”  He sighed heavily, pausing for a moment to sip the Brandy.

“There is no way of knowing the extent of what Tirithiáël may have told them.  I am sure they were aware our forces were severely diminished in the battle in Erebor.”  Lord Garävegión stated, a slight frown creasing his brow.  “It would explain their arrival in such a small number.”

“I agree.”  Thranduil said quietly, turning to meet the gaze of his longtime friend and Chief Adviser.  “Our forces are enough to protect these lands.  Further negotiations with King Bard regarding the garrisons will at best secure the water passages.  Retribution in this matter must be swift, I cannot afford to show weakness.”  He stated with a sigh, only slightly more comfortable with his decision.

“You still have not said what you intend to do with him.”  Lord Garävegión stated, his gaze narrowing slightly, knowing Thranduil’s reluctance to tell him meant he was not going to like it.

“Regardless of his crime, it is not in me to simply take the life of one my own kind.  Particularly one who is unarmed, nor can I ask it of another.”  Thranduil stated, his anger presenting itself as a slight blush tone crept up from beneath the collar of his tunic.  “Tirithiáël will be given the chance to die with honor.  I have challenged him to a dual.”

“Are you mad?!”  Lord Garävegión exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.  “Tirithiáël is a skilled warrior, he fought alongside your father in the War of Wrath and during the Last Alliance!”

“You doubt my abilities?”  Thranduil asked, his brow raising as he tilted his head curiously, his gaze hardening as he pinioned the older elf with an angry gaze.

“No, I do not.”  He stated firmly, shaking his head, his gaze never leaving that the king.  “You know as well as I do, with nothing left to lose, his hatred for you will drive him.  He will attack you like nothing you have ever fought before.”

“My mind is made up.”  Thranduil stated as he stared down into his goblet.  “For nearly three thousand years we have lived in relative peace with the outside world and I will not have that destroyed.”

“What of Eirik and the others?”  Lord Garävegión asked quietly, studying the stern expression on the kings’ face.

“As with Ortäuré, he will be escorted to the edge of our lands and set free.”  Thranduil replied, his tone was cold as he looked up to meet the concerned gaze of his Chief Advisor.  “But he will take a message with him.  I will not be trifled with and these lands are mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ithuri – The Spirit of the Forest in essence “Mother Nature”
> 
> Nördyqûi – The children born of captive human women to Annûmëä, known as the necromancer of Carn Dûm during the latter days of the First Age.
> 
> Vanyar – They were the first and smallest clan of the Elves.
> 
> Sorry this took so long to post! Thank you to everyone who patiently waited, I hope you’re not disappointed! Comments are always welcome!


	29. The Price of the Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas returns to his fathers’ halls only to learn of Lord Tirithiáël’s treachery and his fathers’ decision to allow him the honor of a dual to the death. Terrified for his fathers’ safety, he seeks him out to dissuade him. Although he claims to have made his peace, Thranduil still agonizes over what he must now do. He faces Eirik, the Nördyqûi as he gives him a message to pass on to his brother Lochinvar.

Pulling the dark gray hood further over his head, Legolas frowned slightly as he moved slowly through the lengthening evening shadows.  Pausing as he reached the pine grove just beyond the narrow path near the murky waters of the Enchanted River, he studied the motionless form of the sentry at the entrance for long moments.

“ _I know a great many things_.”  His father had stated, unsuccessfully hiding his irritation at his insolence during the confrontation that Legolas now deeply regretted.  “ _Perhaps you should explain yourself.  You can start by telling me why you thought it necessary to sneak into my house like a thief in the night._ ”  The harsh words haunted him even now as he scanned the patrol posts in the treetops, noting two forest guards where there had formerly only been one.

“ _Something is wrong_.”  He thought, ducking deeper into the shadows.  Distinguishable only to elven ears, the soft yet clear bird sounds told him the guards had been alerted to his presence.  Crouching beneath the heavy branches of the pine tree, he watched the slender form moving purposefully yet stealthily toward him.

“Legolas!”  A voice he recognized as belonging to his friend Träëliôrn hissed.  “I know you’re there!”

“What is going on?”  Legolas asked quietly, yet his tone was demanding as he moved from the cover of the shadows.

“It would seem our childish antics over the years has made the king take note of the weaknesses in the palace.”  Träëliôrn chuckled softly as the two embraced briefly.

“What are you not telling me?”  Legolas stated more than asked as he stepped back, meeting his friends’ uncomfortable gaze.

“Legolas.”  He sighed heavily, his gaze darting quickly at their surroundings as he searched for his words.

“What has happened to my father!?”  He demanded, panic gripping his heart as he moved past him toward the path leading toward the kings’ stables.

“Nothing!”  Träëliôrn hissed, grabbing the princes’ arm tightly.  “The king is fine!”  He stated firmly as he jerked him around to face him.

“I do not know everything.”  He continued, his tone softening somewhat beneath the princes’ fearful yet angry glare.  “For the past two days the king has been sequestered in the sanctuary with Séonäis...”

“Why does my father seek the council of the High Cleric?”  He interrupted him, his voice shaking notably, his anxiousness clearly etched in his features as he stared at his friend.

“You have been gone just over a moon my friend.”  Träëliôrn stated, releasing his grip on the princes’ arm.  “Much has happened in your absence.  Come, the guards will not deny your entry.  I will explain only what I know.”

“There was much hurt and anger in your heart when you left.”  Träëliôrn began thoughtfully as they walked toward the path leading to the kings’ stable entrance.  “I have known of your return the moment you stepped beyond the Horned Gate.  I know you and knew you would return to at least make peace with your father.”  He continued, yet fell silent again, searching his own heart for just how much he should reveal to his friend.

“Aldalómë gave no reason for the doubling of the guards near the palace and Lárasarnë has been just as secretive about the changes in the patrols as well.”  He began, choosing to spare his friend the details of Tauriels’ abduction and grievous injuries.

“Träëliôrn.”  The prince stated sardonically, casting a brief glance at him as they reached the waterfall just beyond the stable doors.  “Do not coddle me.  My father has always known that I have secreted in and out of the palace for many years.  What threat concerns him now?”  He asked pointedly.

“Treason.”  Träëliôrn sighed heavily, knowing he would not be able to keep it from him.  “But it is more than that.”  He added as the prince turned, stopping him in his tracks with a firm hand on his chest.

“Treason!?”  He demanded, angry pale blue eyes locked with his friends’ concerned moss green stare.  “Who would dare such an act!?”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Pausing as he reached for the ornate handle of his private rooms, Thranduil’s thoughts were dark, almost foreboding.  Bound by the same laws as was he, he knew it was Afÿmrails’ confession for his part in the scheme that swayed all but one of the council toward the guilty vote.  A vote that sealed Tirithiáëls’ fate and forced his hand as the executioner, a task that weighed heavily on his _fäë_ to end the life of another.

Listening intently, he frowned slightly as he heard no sound from within.  Sighing heavily, he carefully lifted the handle and quietly entered.  Bathed only in the flickering ember glow of the hearth, the spacious room was strangely dark.  A slight movement in the shadows caught his eye as he stepped out of the small atrium, his footsteps were silent as he walked into his public sitting room.

A soft smile curled her lips as Gilaiwë turned toward him, noting his strong yet graceful stride as he walked toward her.  She did not need to see his face to feel the weight he carried in his heart as he sank into the familiar comfort of the chair opposite her.  The carefully crafted expression of indifference hid nothing from her, they had known each other far too long for secrets.  Neither of them spoke for long moments as he turned away from her to watch the flames in the hearth.

“Thank you.”  He said quietly, the barest of smiles lifted the corners of his lips as he turned back toward her, meeting her concerned gaze.  His expression strained as he struggled in vain to hide himself from her.

“It was nothing.”  Gilaiwë chuckled softly, shifting slightly in the chair.  “It has been a long day for her.  She is frustrated, confused, and angry.”  She told him, studying the odd expression on his face.  “I had to give her a soothing tea to make her to go sleep.”

“ _Ay_ _ë_.” (Yes)  He chuckled softly, a glimmer of humor sparkled only briefly in his eyes.  Leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his long slender fingers loosely.  “Tauriel has always been rather trying once her mind is set on a certain path.”  He sighed, his expression softening somewhat, a myriad of fleeting memories danced through his thoughts.  His gaze was soft as it flickered briefly over her face before turning back to the flames in the hearth.  “She has forever been demanding, filled with curiosity and always wanting immediate answers or reasons for everything.  Questioning things I did not know how to explain much less things I have always sought to protect her from.”

“ _Damn_!”  Legolas cursed silently, hearing the sound of muffled voices as he reached the end of the narrow tunnel between his own private chambers and those of his father.  He had hoped to find his father alone, he needed to talk to him, to dissuade him from this decision he knew would forever change him.

The strange emotions in his fathers’ voice twisted in his heart as he reached the thin canvas of the painting that served as a secret door between their personal chambers.  There was a deep pain in his fathers’ tone that only strengthened his feelings that Träëliôrn had not told him everything. 

Hugging himself tightly, the pain in his heart only deepened as he remembered the last time they had spoken.  He heard the same pain in his fathers’ voice and it hurt far more than the harsh words exchanged between them.

“ _I should not be here_.”  He thought sadly, closing his eyes tightly as if to ward off the memory of the disappointment he saw in the depths of his fathers’ eyes that day.

“She is young Thranduil.”   Gilaiwë stated, frowning slightly at the anger only barely concealed beneath the chaos she felt within him as she watched the mask fall away for the first time in many years.

“As are so many who remain, she is not so young so as to be untouched by the evil that taints this world.”  He replied, his tone weighty with sadness as he rose to his feet and walked toward the hearth.  “As I am sure you have heard, I have conceded to Garävegión’s logic.”  He sighed heavily as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“Thranduil...”  She began softly, feeling the now familiar wall surrounding him, shutting her out once more.

“Gilaiwë please, I know you mean well.”  He stated, his voice sounding almost like a groan as he tilted his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Yes _mellon nîn_ (my friend), I understand this is a battle you must fight alone.”  She told him quietly, her soft voice filled the room as she reached out through her gift to comfort him.  “The task before you weighs heavy on your heart, yet you of all people understand even the chaos of nature is not without order.”

“My compliance comes with great reluctance as it was not my first choice and it leaves me with a foul taste.”  He stated, flexing his shoulders as if they pained him greatly.  “The battle on the plains of Erebor cost us much in precious lives.”  He continued as he turned his attention back to the flames, his expression hardening to an unreadable mask.

“Garävegión is right, yet I cannot afford to show weakness.”  Thranduil stated, his calm tone belied the rage building within him.  Unbidden, painful memories of bloody battle fields of past wars tormented him.  So many lives lost, families and loved ones sundered in the never ending battle against evil and now against one that festered within his very halls.

“Ortäurés’ life has been spared, yet it is of little consolation to me.”  He spoke quietly after long moments, his tone emotionless as he forced the memories back into the darker corners of his mind.  “Before dawn Eluandúnië and his men will escort him to the Longwell Pass.  He can make his own way from there to wherever he chooses so long as he never returns.”

Stiffening as he turned to look at her, Gilaiwë felt a physical pain shoot through her as she met his frigid stare.  Never before in the long centuries of their friendship had she ever seen or felt such icy hatred emanating from him.

 “As for the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_.”  He stated angrily, his _Vanyar_ blood echoing in the power of his voice as he met her stare.  “When it is done, Aldalómë will lead a party south to the juncture of the Old Forest Road and the Celduin.  There he will be released with my message for Lochinvar.  If he so much as sets one foot within these lands, I will personally hunt him down and kill him myself.”

Swallowing hard to stifle a gasp as his legs gave way beneath him, Legolas felt his skin prickle as he sensed the battle of wills between the two.  He had felt only a touch of the powers of the _Vanyar_ during his visit to Lórinand in his search for Tauriel.  There were times in the past he had sensed the same power in his father, still what he knew came only from the old tales told by the March Wardens, yet his gift remained hidden from him for most of his life.  Closing his eyes as he slid silently down onto the cold stone floor, his stomach clenched at the vehement tone of his fathers’ voice.

“ _When it is done_.”  His fathers’ words echoed heavily across his mind.  “ _On the morrow the King will carry out the sentence against Tirithiáël_.”  Cold fingers gripped his heart at the conviction in his fathers’ voice, Träëliôrn had spoken the truth as they slipped silently through the halls toward his private rooms. 

“So, you intend to test the Fates.”  She asked quietly, refusing to back down as she arched a thin brow at him.

“You know as well as I the Fates have nothing to do with this.  Mine was sealed long ago.”  He growled as he resumed his pacing the length of the grand hearth.  “Still, I take no pleasure in it.  There is no other choice left to me.  I am far more concerned the council failed to reach a full decision on the judgement.”

“You are not invincible.  Surly there must be another way...”

“No Gilaiwë, so long as I am aware of even a hint of treachery, trusting the lives of those I love to chance is a luxury I do not have.”  Thranduil stated harshly as he stopped pacing to stare at her, his eyes narrowing slightly.  “Since the day I first held him in my arms my son has meant everything to me.  Nothing has changed that, not this crown, not my love for Tauriel, nor the passage of time.  She will be angry with me but I can protect her, it is not for my own sake but for the life of my son for which I fear.”

The conviction in his fathers’ voice tore at him, swallowing against the painful lump that rose in his throat, Legolas leaned his head back against the stone wall.  Hot tears leaked unheeded down his cheeks as he struggled with the past, memories of his childhood.  Remembering the strong, protective yet gentle and loving father who had always been there for him.

“Tirithiáël is far more dangerous now than he ever was, you know this.”  Gilaiwë stated, her voice echoing Garävegións’ earlier fears for his safety.  “He is filled with nothing but hate for you and everything you stand for.”

“Yes.”  He stated, his tone eerily calm as he continued to stare at her.  “I have made my peace with what is before me.”

“I have no choice.”  He continued after long moments of silence between them, his tone empty as he turned away from her toward the flames in the hearth once more.  “Not since the day I swore my oath to the crown have I felt such a heavy weight upon me.  What Tirithiáël sought to divide, I must fight once more to unite.  I cannot show weakness to those who would rise against us, nor can I do so for those I am entrusted to defend.  The decree will remain as it stands.  No one, not even myself is above it.  Tomorrow, when the sun rises, he will meet his fate by my own hand.”

“ _You forced my hand in this Legolas.  You have set things in motion that cannot be changed_.”  His fathers’ words haunted him as he struggled to gain control of his emotions.  “ _This is all my fault_.”  He ridiculed himself angrily, the deep regret of that last conversation with his father filling him once more.  Burying his face in his hands as his heart sank to the pit of his stomach, he knew there were no words he could speak that would change his fathers’ mind.

“What is it you seek from him?”  Gilaiwë asked cautiously, feeling his anger rising once more as she watched the strange play of emotions chase themselves across his face.

“The _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_.”  She stated more firmly when he only stared silently at her inquisitively.  “What answers do you think he will give you now?”

“Nothing, I want nothing from him.”  He said quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he returned her cautious gaze.  “I have already asked much of you.”  He continued, pausing for a moment as he visibly shook himself.  “I do not wish for her to wake alone yet I cannot be there for her until my task is finished.”

“Be at peace _mellon nîn_.” (My friend)  She told him, a soft smile played across her lips even as the sadness she felt for him could not be hidden within the depths of her dark blue eyes.  “I shall remain with her for as long necessary.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Numb beyond words, Legolas crept silently back through the tunnels toward the lower levels of the palace.  Driven by an unseen force he could not explain, he moved deeper into the tunnels toward the dungeons on the other side of the fortress.  Conscious only of the searing pain in his heart for the sorrow he felt in his fathers’ words.

Keeping in the shadows, he crept silently forward as he followed the muffled yet anxious voices of the guards.  Pausing briefly as the guards changed direction, he turned and slipped easily up onto the narrow ledge above the small group of cells.  Crouching against the rocky surface of the wall, he hugged his knees closer to his body as if to find some measure of comfort that continued to elude him.

“Bring them to me.”  The familiar sound of his fathers’ deep baritone voice echoed through the cavernous chamber.

Frowning slightly as he watched the tall figure of his father stride purposefully toward the center cell.  Dressed in a dark green uniform of a tunic and leggings with his long sword at his hip, he could easily have been mistaken for a member of the elite guard had it not been for the silver circlet crowning his golden head.

“I have nothing to say to you.”  A deep gravelly voice could be heard from within the cell.

“You have nothing to tell me that I do not already know.”  Thranduil stated quietly yet icily as he stared at the man from behind his mask of indifference.

“Then what do you want from me?”  Eirik stated more than asked, his large frame appeared at the bars of the cell.  “It’s only a matter time, my brother will come for me.”  He said after a few moments, a slow grin splitting his face as he met the golden haired elfs’ gaze easily.

“I think not.”  Thranduil stated sarcastically, both turned toward the commotion at the entrance as the guards led the two bounty hunters into the large chamber.

“Silence!”  Thranduil commanded as the guards shoved the two babbling prisoners to their knees and stepped back from them.

“Your benefactor, Lord Tirithiáël has been tried and found guilty of the crime of high treason.”  He continued in the same cold, detached tone as he walked behind the two kneeling prisoners.  “The penalty for such a crime is death.”  He added as he silently withdrew his sword from its sheath.

Clamping his hand over his mouth to stifle the gasp, Legolas’ eyes widened as his father raised the blade.  Pressing himself tighter against the rock wall as he watched the blade arc in one swift but precise motion, the flickering torch light flashed for an instant off the pristine metal before slicing quickly through the necks of both men.  Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, he watched his father casually step over the fallen bodies as he walked back toward the cell, the blood still dripping from his blade.

“Tomorrow Tirithiáël will meet the same fate.”  Thranduil stated, pausing just beyond arms reach from the cell door.

“You would risk a Kinslaying?”  Eirik asked, struggling slightly to maintain his outward air of indifference in the face the elfs’ cold indifference.

“What I will not risk is the lives of my people.”  Thranduil informed him, his tone emotionless as he stared at the man.  “Do not make the mistake of believing me to be weak.  I told you before.  These are my lands and my people.  If I so much as hear that you or Lochinvar set even one foot within my lands I will personally hunt you down and kill you myself.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> Nördyqûi – The children born of captive human women to Annûmëä, known as the necromancer of Carn Dûm during the latter days of the First Age.
> 
> Also, as most Tolkien fanfic writers’ do, I like to use certain Sindarin words or terms in my writings. However, there are a few of my own “creations” (five to be precise) sprinkled throughout all of my Tolkien fanfics. The definitions given in the stories are meant to describe things that mean something within the Tolkien setting.


	30. Fate & Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Failing in his pleas to dissuade his father from his decision, Legolas now struggles with the past and his fear of losing his father forever. Haunted by the prophetic words of Lady Gilaiwë during his search for Tauriel, he braces himself for a crown that like his father, he does not want. Driven by the fear of losing the only one she knows she will ever truly love, Tauriel lashes out in anger, refusing to accept Thranduil’s decision.

Nearly hurling himself down the stairs in an older portion of the fortress, Legolas made his way toward the former royal chambers.  Now abandoned for the most part, save a small sitting room where he knew he would find his father.  It was his private sanctuary, a place he would go when there was something heavy weighing upon him.

“Is he in there?”  He asked the sentinel at the door, his tone guarded as he marched into the small antechamber.

“He was very strict in his orders, _hîr vuin_. (My Lord)  He is not to be disturbed for any reason.”  Lieutenant Tërÿani stated, stepping forward quickly to intercept the young prince.

“I will speak with my father.  If you do not let me pass I will make such a ruckus even the dead will rise.”  Legolas stated far more calmly than he felt as he met the sentinels’ gaze with a steel will of his own.

“ _Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin_.” (As you wish, my lord).   Lieutenant Tháëdrâs sighed heavily, stepping aside from the door.  His shoulders drooping notably as he nodded, his gaze flickered quickly toward Tërÿani in resignation.

Startled, Thranduil frowned as he turned toward the sound of the heavy wooden door swinging open.  A soft yet audible sound escaped his lips, his breath caught in his throat as the slender figure of his son stepped purposefully from the shadows of the small entryway.

“Legolas!”  He exclaimed, sounding almost breathless as he sprang from the comfort of the worn and tattered leather chair.  His long legs quickly clearing the distance between them.

“Why did you leave Imladris?’  He asked quietly, pulling his son tightly against him.  Closing his eyes against the slight sting of the tears that threatened.  The heaviest weight of what lay before him had been the fear that he would never again see his son again should he fail in his task.

“My reason does not matter _Ada_.” (Informal Father)  Legolas answered, his arms instinctively embracing his fathers’ taller, slightly larger frame as he buried his face in the warmth of his neck.  Breathing in the familiar aroma of sandalwood mingled with the distinct scent that was his fathers’ alone, he felt only somewhat comforted.

“Träëliôrn informed me of what has happened with Tirithiáël.”  Legolas choked past the lump in his throat, feeling the sting of his own tears threatening.  “I am sorry _Ada_. This is all my fault.”

“No _ion nîn_.” (My son)  Thranduil sighed softly as he stroked his sons’ hair gently.  “The fault is none but my own.”  He continued quietly, pressing his cheek against his sons’ temple.  “There is nothing to blame but my own selfishness.”

“But I should have...”

“No.”  Thranduil stated firmly, smiling softly as his son pulled away from him slightly, staring questioningly up at him.  “I promised myself long ago that I would not ask you to sacrifice your heart to satisfy my fathers’ foolish notions.  I was wrong to blame you, to push you away from me.”  He told him quietly as he studied his face, his heart ached at the sheen of unshed tears he saw in his sons’ eyes.

“The troubles of this kingdom should not be only yours to bear.  As the Prince of this realm, I share some of that burden.”  Legolas stated as he struggled to compose himself beneath the intensity of the emotions emanating from the familiar sapphire eyes.

“I will not burden you with them for your destiny lies far beyond my reach.”  Thranduil told him quietly but firmly, his gaze drinking in the image of his sons’ face as if to memorize every detail.

“I will never leave you _Adar_!  (Father)  Not truly!”  He insisted, his arms closing tighter around his father.

“Legolas, _ion nîn_ (my son), when the time comes it will not be your choice.”  He sighed softly, a slight smile curled the corners of his lips.  “The Fates care not for the plans of elves, dwarves or men.  It is the way of the world, they will ever seek to preserve the balance of all things.”

“I do not understand _Ada_.” (Informal Father)  Legolas said quietly, frowning slightly as he studied his fathers’ strange expression.  “You have always taught me to look into my heart, there is where I would find my destiny.”

“And that is true.”  Thranduil replied, a slight lilt of laughter danced in his tone as pride shown from his eyes.  “Our destinies are not set for us, there are always choices.”  He continued quietly as he slipped his arm around his sons’ shoulders, guiding him toward the chairs before the hearth.

“Long ago, when I lost your Grandfather, I made the choice to withdraw from the world.  It is a choice I do not regret.”  Thranduil began quietly as he sank into the larger of the two chairs.  “I withdrew because I was afraid.”  He sighed heavily, looking toward his son as he leaned back.

“There is no shame in fear.”  He added quickly, holding up his hand to silence his son.  “I was afraid for our people.  We had battled the great evil, defeating it at a great cost.  A price I vowed I would never pay again.”

“ _Adar_ (father)...”  Legolas exclaimed, his voice cracking as he leapt from the chair.  “Please...”  He choked as he dropped to his knees in front of his father, burying his face in the softness of his silk tunic as he clung to him

“This is my burden to bear.”  He said quietly, his expression softening as he looked down at his son, his long slender fingers toying gently with his silken hair.  “You are my pride and my joy _ion nîn_ (my son), and I would spare you all the evils of this world if I could.”

“Then do not do this thing.”  Legolas stated as he looked up at him, his voice heavy with unshed tears that clung to his lashes like sparkling crystals.  “Send Tirithiáël away!  Send him far away!”  He pleaded, his eyes searching the now sad yet gentle gaze of his father.  “Please _Ada_! (Informal Father)  I beg you!”

“You must listen to me _ion nîn_.” (My son)  Thranduil sighed heavily as he cupped his son’s chin gently in his hands, meeting his gaze evenly.  “Tirithiáël made his choice.  I am now bound by my oath to this crown...”

“There must be another way!”  Legolas blurted, his fingers clutching tightly to the silk folds of his fathers’ tunic.  “You said we always have choices!”

“Yes, there are always choices, yet not always choices we would like.  Now, I need you to be strong for me.”  Thranduil stated, lifting his sons’ chin as if to emphasize his words, his thumb resting firmly on the trembling lips to silence him.  “In this there is no choice.  I am your _Adar_ (Father) yes.  I know not the words to tell you how much I love you.”  His voice softening for a moment as studied his sons’ face.  “But I am also a King, sworn to protect all those who dwell within these lands.  It is an oath I did not take lightly then nor shall I forsake it now.”

“ _What Tirithiáël sought to divide, I must fight once more to unite.  I cannot show weakness to those who would rise against us, nor can I do so for those I am entrusted to defend.  The decree will remain as it stands.  No one, not even myself is above it_.”  His fathers’ words haunted him as he recalled the conversation in Imladris.

“I...”  Legolas began, swallowing quickly to quell the quiver in his voice as he dropped his gaze.  “I did not mean to but I overheard what I believe was meant to be a private conversation between Lord Elrond and Erestor in one of the gardens.”

“What did you hear?”  Thranduil asked, his tone slightly sharper than he would have preferred.  Lifting his sons’ chin once more, he forced him to meet his gaze.

“Their concern deepens with the goings on in Dol Guldur.”  He replied, stiffening slightly as he watched the strange expression settle in his fathers’ eyes.  “They await word from Lord Celeborn in Lorien.”

“ _Then it has already begun_.”  Thranduil sighed silently as he dropping his hand to his lap, his gaze turning toward the dancing flames in the hearth.

“What is it _Adar_?” (Father)  Legolas asked, studying his fathers’ face.

“It is a matter for another time _ion nîn_.” (My son) Thranduil stated, visibly shaking himself as he turned back toward him.  “For now there is something I must ask of you.”

“What do you need of me?”  Legolas replied quietly, recognizing the sudden stoic expression his father now wore.  No amount of pleading or tears would change his mind, there would be no answers to his questions tonight.

“Tomorrow Tauriel will need you more than ever before.”  Thranduil said quietly, searching his sons’ eyes for any sign of the anger that filled him before he fled to Imladris.  “Lady Gilaiwë is with her now but I have asked Lord Elvändéruil to remain by her side but I want you there too.  It would mean so much to her.  Go now, sleep well tonight and speak with him in the morning.”

“ _Adar_...” (Father)

“Legolas please.”  He sighed heavily as he took his sons’ face in his hands.  “I need this time to myself.”  He told him quietly as he leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to his forehead.

“Yes _Adar_.” (Father)  He nodded, his voice little more than a whisper.  The slight tremble in his lips conflicting with the confidence he had hoped to convey.  “I will see you tomorrow.”  He added, hugging him fiercely before rising quickly to his feet and leaving him to his thoughts.

Only after he heard the soft click of the latch on the door did Thranduil relax, releasing a sigh that weighed heavily upon him as his gaze turned back toward the flames in the hearth.

“ _Mir'nwēoben_...”  It was only the slightest of whispers, yet the gentle voice softly caressed his _f_ _ēa_ (soul), calling to him. 

“ _No longer_ _the sapling nor the bough, now your destiny is all that remains_.”  The soft whispered but familiar voice of _Ithuri_ comforted him, but it was a cold comfort.

“ _Mi_ _ŕ ö nin réd_?”  (And what of my son)  He asked in a strained whisper as hot tears leaked unheeded from the corners of his eyes as he stared unseeing into the flames of the hearth.

“ _Ever the child, your heart does often wonder, always it plagues you with more questions than answers_.”  The voice coddled him, growing stronger in his mind as the Spirit of the Forest sought to comfort him.

“I must know.”  He whispered, closing his eyes as he allowed her comforting aura to fill him.

“ _I can tell you only this_ _Mir'nwēoben_.”  Her voice grew clear and firm in his mind.  “ _Just as you have suffered and weathered life’s storms, a sapling ever bending but never breaking, your Little Leaf will face much pain and sorrow before he finds his place._ ” 

“Help me.”  The words choked out passed his constricting throat as he leaned forward.  Burying his face in his hands, Thranduil sobbed as he had not done since he was but a mere elfling.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Feigning sleep, Legolas watched the servant move silently passed the foot of his bed as he made his way toward the hearth to begin the task of lighting the early morning fires.  Sleep had eluded him as thoughts of his father tormented him, yet he was wide awake in the dimly lit room.

Throughout his youth he had eagerly listened to the March Wardens as they told their tales of his father, the warrior prince who stood alone over the fallen body of the king.  Fighting against the great orc Chieftain Aonuk and his hordes until King Amdír of Lórinand and his forces could get to him and render aid.  Those tales had come back to him tenfold as he watched his father in the Battle on the plains of Erebor.  Amongst the tallest of the Sindar, even on foot, his father’s long silvery blonde tresses could easily be seen in the midst of the dark hordes that flowed like never ending rivers down the mountain side.  The sun glinting off his silver circlet as he fearlessly flung himself into the foray, viciously swinging his blades with deadly grace, slicing through orc, goblin, and ogre as if they were little more than puppets.

Shaking himself from his thoughts as he realized the servant had already departed, he threw the soft blanket aside and swung himself from the warmth of his bed.  With sheer will, he pushed down the sickening bile that churned in his gut as he quickly went about the task of preparing for the day ahead.  He felt a sharp ache in his heart as he hurriedly pulled on the dark forest green dress uniform of the Forest Guard made of fine silk.

Pausing for a moment at his dressing table, his gaze fell on the silver circlet of his status as the prince of the Woodland Realm.  Tentatively, he reached for it, the delicate design deceptively heavy in his hand as he lifted it to his head.

Staring at himself in the polished silvered glass, he looked upon a stranger as his thoughts turned once more to the past.  “ _When we were young, your father and I held little concern for the orthodox ways of our people.  Unfortunately, as we grew older, we began to understand that duties and responsibilities of a crown outweigh the wants and needs of the bearer.  One day fate may put that crown on your head, until then you must search within yourself for the strength and the courage to wear it._ ”

Lady Gilaiwë’s words pulled at his heart and weighed heavily in his thoughts as he turned away from his reflection, making his way quickly to his father’s private areas of the fortress.  Slipping quietly into the small alcove, he bolted toward his father’s bed chamber as he heard Tauriel’s angry scream.

 “No!”  Lord Elvändéruil hissed as he spun away from the hearth, catching the young prince and nearly flinging the two of them to the floor in his efforts to stop him.  “She is angry, let her spend herself.”  He stated quietly, yet tightened his grip on him as Legolas pushed against him.

“Tauriel that is quite enough!”

“What?!”  Legolas gasped, recognizing the voice of his father’s personal servant Galion.  A deep frown creased his brow, relaxing somewhat in Elvändéruil’s grasp as he turned toward the Lady Gilaiwë.

“No!  I will not stand idly by...”

“You will do as the rest of us Tauriel!”

The sound of something crashing against a wall startled the three elves in the public sitting room, yet none of them moved other than to turn and stare toward the half open door of the king’s bed chamber.

“Get out!”  Tauriel screamed as she grabbed another small vase from the dressing table.  “I said get out!”  She hissed, hurling it toward the annoying _ellyn_ (male elf).

“Have you taken leave of your senses?!”  Galion shouted angrily as he turned, easily dodging the flying vase, flinching inwardly as it smashed against the wall, its shattered slivers raining down into the pile of others that had previously met the same fate.

“I will not...”

Taking advantage of the momentary disruption, Legolas quickly slipped from Elvändéruil’s loosened grasp.  Pushing away from him, he launched himself forward and raced passed the startled Gilaiwë to his father’s bed chamber.

“This is not what he needs right now!”  Galion exclaimed as he grasped her shoulders firmly, shaking her.  “He needs your strength now more than he ever has!  Don’t you see that?!”  He continued, shaking her as if to emphasize his words.

 “He is right Tauriel.”  Legolas stated firmly, his darkening eyes locking onto hers.  The clear commanding air of his voice filled the room, causing both of them to turn quickly toward him.  “If it is your intention to stand at my fathers’ side as his Queen, you need to first act like one.”  He persisted in the same tone as he walked slowly toward her.

Backing away, Galion hugged himself as he covered his mouth with on hand in an effort to hide his approval behind a failing stoic expression as he watched the young prince stride purposefully toward her.  Resolute, the young prince reminded him of his father the day they had departed for Lórinand in what now felt like a lifetime ago.  His gaze flickered toward Tauriel as she stood there staring at him as if she did not recognize him.

“As the King, his duty is first to the crown he bears and the oath he swore to protect the people of this realm.”  He stated as he stopped in front of her, struggling to control the anger that had begun to rise in his gut.  “You knew this from the beginning.  He has given you his heart, he can give you no more.”

“Legolas, please...”

“No Tauriel.”  He interrupted her firmly, grasping her hands as she reached for him.  “There is no other way, what is done is done, there remains only consequences that must be dealt with.  You will be strong and stand for him, you will show him the Queen he believes you are.”

“Lady Gilaiwë will assist you.”  He said quietly, releasing her as he turned toward Galion.  “Will you join me?”  He asked, his unreadable gaze flickered quickly over the silent servant before striding tenaciously from the room without waiting for an answer.

“She will see you now.”  Legolas sighed as he reached the hearth in the public sitting room.  A slight smile curled one corner of his lips, his pale blue eyes now clouded like a thunderstorm as he turned toward Gilaiwë.

“Thank you _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Galion stated as he turned toward the young prince, clasping his hands loosely behind his back.  “Now if you will excuse me, there are other matters I must attend to.”  He added quietly, his eyes bright with pride as he watched him for a brief moment.

“ _Saes_ (please) stay Galion.”  Legolas stopped him, placing a hand on the servants shoulder.  “I can think of nothing so dire that would require your immediate attention and you do not need to be alone.”  He told him, squeezing his shoulder as he met his gaze with a soft smile.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Galion smiled as he paused for a long moment to study the young prince.  Memories of long ago fluttered through his mind like numerous dried leaves of too many autumn’s carried away in a swift breeze, yet each one as clear to him as the day they were made.  Some lingering a little longer, caught on the edges of his heart as he remembered the day the tiny golden haired _ellyn_ (male elf) was first placed in his father’s arms.  Never before had he seen such joy in Thranduil’s eyes as he gazed upon the face of his infant son for the first time.

“Would you like some tea?”  He asked, smiling softly as he tilted his head slightly.  “Your _ada_ (informal father) has a preference for spiced hazelnut tea flavored with a bit of _eug_ _ēn_ _ő_.  I would be happy to make it for you.”

“The tea will be fine, thank you.”  Legolas replied, nodding briefly before turning toward Lord Elvändéruil.

“She can be very strong willed.”  Lord Elvändéruil commented with a slight smile, lifting the heavy air in the room.

“Her stubbornness is her greatest strength yet it is also her greatest weakness.”  Legolas replied, smiling back as they sank into the large wing backed chairs his father preferred.  “Please.”  He paused briefly, studying Elvändéruil for a long moment.  “I know only Tirithiáël’s crime, I need know what happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> Mir'nwēoben - Child, Jewel of my Heart – a name given to him by Ithuri 
> 
> Ithuri – The Spirit of the Forest in essence “Mother Nature”
> 
> Eugēnő – A spice similar to Cloves
> 
> First let me apologize for the long delay in this update! Life should be getting back to normal for me here shortly and I will be able to complete the updates sooner. This particular story however, is coming to an end, probably in the next chapter, two at the most. Thank you all so much for hanging in there with me! 
> 
> I never intended to write a series when I started writing this story, it was meant to be a stand-alone single story. Different conversations with various writer friends has resulted in a trilogy in the following chronological timeline:
> 
> Book I – Lórinand Memoirs: The Bough Breaks  
> Book II – The Moth & The Flame  
> Book III – The Last Elvenking.
> 
> I will begin working on Book III once I have completed Books I & II. Thank you for all your support! Comments good, bad, or indifferent are always welcome!


	31. The Dual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of reckoning for Tirithiáëls’ crimes has dawned. The great elven fortress is filled with anxious and worried elves from farthest corners of the Woodland Realm. In this battle of wills and weapons, which one will walk away?

A solemn but tense mood hung heavy in the air, so many words still unspoken as Thranduil watched the March Wardens set about the task of inspecting his armor before assisting him.  It was a task normally reserved for Galion, those silent moments of sharing unspoken fears with loved ones before departing for battle.  But this was different.  They were his friends and his comrades but they would not be at his side, not this time, this was a task he must face alone.

“I am not going into battle.”  Thranduil said quietly, frowning slightly as he grasped his friends’ arm when he reached for the chain imbued leather jerkin.

“Do not be a fool.”  Aldalómë stated, taking the jerkin from Macilvoronhûr as he stepped in front of him.  “Tirithiáëls’ preferred weapon is the _K_ _őv_ _áē_.”  He continued firmly, the concern in his eyes shifting to a challenge as he met the gaze of not only his king but one who was not just his friend, but his first love.  “In the hands of one as experienced as he, the point can easily find its way through even the slightest crack in any armor.”

“I have seen enough...”

“He is older than my _Adar_ (Father) and has fought more battles than the five of us together.”  Aldalómë interrupted him angrily, his eyes narrowing as he refused to back down.  “He has a long buried hatred in his heart against you.  Now with nothing left, he has no concern for himself.”

“Listen to him.”  Glaurhalbër said quietly, stepping forward with the Kings’ broad black breast plate in his hands.  “Unlike your _Sáterâēa_ , the _K_ _őv_ _áē_ was designed for self-defense in close quarters.  He is also known to carry the _Sâēx_ as do you.”

“The _K_ _őv_ _áē_ is also a favored weapon of Lord Arthädión.”  Rínnänéth commented almost to himself as he met the Kings guarded gaze evenly.  “I have watched him fight many times on the practice field.  The blade is designed for thrusting more than slicing.  Unlike the mindless attacks of goblins who rely more on the strength of their numbers where your _Sáterâēa_ is more useful, in this Tirithiáëls’ shorter stature will be to his advantage.  He is quick of wit and will try to goad you into reaching for him where you risk exposing your weaknesses.”

“You are right, this is not a battle field.”  Macilvoronhûr stated, narrowing his eyes as Thranduil turned toward him.  “Still, you cannot see him as anything but what he is.”  He told him, pausing for a moment as he watched the storm clouds forming in depths of the kings’ eyes.  “Tirithiáël is no less an enemy than any other you have faced before him.  He will not hesitate to kill you.”

“ _Adar_.”  Aldalómë stated quietly as he stared at this father curiously over the Kings shoulder.

“Lord Garävegión!”  Thranduil exclaimed, turning quickly toward the open door of his private armory.  “What brings...”

“Please stay.”  Garävegión said quietly, silencing him, his gray blue eyes quickly flickered over the faces of the March Wardens as they turned to leave before fixing themselves on the face of the King.

“For nearly three thousand years I have counseled you and stood by you in your decisions.”  He began, holding up his hand to silence him as he walked toward him.  “I have no regrets.  History has often proven you to be wise beyond your years, yet in this I cannot help but fear it is not your wisdom that drives you now.”

“I have made my peace with what lies before me.”  Thranduil stated, his tone deepening as he studied the strange expression on his old friend and mentors face.  “I take no pleasure in this task, nor in setting the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_ free.”

“The _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_ is of no concern to me right now.”  Garävegión said quietly, clasping his hands behind his back as he stepped in front of him.  “Do not underestimate Tirithiáël.”  He stated more firmly, his pale gray blue eyes hardening slightly as they clashed with the kings’ stormy sapphire gaze as he studied him in return for long moments.

“ _Ion nîn_ (my son) is right.”  He continued in the face of Thranduil’s stone faced silence.  “And you know this.  You have known of his hatred for you since your days in Lórinand.  Tirithiáëls’ control over the crown died with Oropher.  In the time since, that hatred has grown and festered, he will stop at nothing to erase everything you have worked and struggled to build.  He knows his life is forfeit as is his dream of power, but he is not alone in his disdain for those he views lesser than himself.”

“It is not vengeance I seek if that is what you think.”  Thranduil sighed heavily, his expression softening somewhat.  “The weaknesses of my predecessor are not my own.  I cannot tolerate nor allow the strife that will surely follow if I do nothing.”

“Then you must listen to the counsel of those in whom you have placed your trust for most of your life.”  Garävegión stated fervently, taking his hands in his, squeezing them as if to further emphasize his words.  “As _ion nîn_ (my son) has already told you, Tirithiáël has seen more wars than I care to recount, more than anyone should.  His hatred and prejudices run deep.  He is also shrewd and cunning, his blades are not his only weapons.  You may have made peace with what you must now do, yet even I can see that your heart is not in it.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“I don’t know any more than anyone else.”  Ilÿraná huffed, shooting an irritated frown over her shoulder at Isilfarél as she pulled on the heavy door to the old library.  “Captain Lárasarnë has been pretty secretive the last few days.”

“Most of the patrols have been replaced by troops from the regiments.”  Hathalber commented, casting her a curious glance as he joined them.

“I noticed, very strange if you ask me.”  Ilÿraná exclaimed, her frown deepening as they walked between the heavily ladened bookshelves.  “Rhäiné said March Warden Eluandúnië left late last night with Lieutenant Häëmir and his regiment.”  She added, almost to herself.

“Well, it’s obvious we’re not being told everything.”  Isilfarél sighed heavily as they approached the open door to the reading room in the back of the library.

“Why is it always so cold down here?”  Aûraë complained, moving little closer Ivósaar as he added more logs to the grate in hearth.

“Most of the scrolls and books kept down here are thousands of years old.”  Captain Lárasarnë commented quietly as he watched the last of them enter the small room.  “Even the smoke from a candle can be damaging to the ink and the parchment.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room for long moments as they all turned their attention to the senior captain.  It held the same eerie feeling that seemed to linger ominously throughout the entire fortress following the announcement of the Councils ruling.  Although not common, the disputes and even outright arguments amongst the council members were no secret, yet the very idea that one of them would actually commit treason was unfathomable.  The death of Afÿmrail had been grievously difficult for so many of them, the guilt he felt for his part in the plot proved to be too much for him to bear.

Yet these events were not what now weighed so heavily in their hearts as with many elves in the realm.  The fortress now filled with worried elves from the surrounding villages, their hearts full of fear as they struggled to understand the Kings decision to challenge the now disgraced lord to a duel.  It was unheard of amongst their people.  The sudden and unannounced return of Prince Legolas only served to heighten the fear and uncertainty throughout the realm.

“I asked all of you to come here and to tell no one where you were going because this is a private meeting.”  Lárasarnë continued, his gaze flickering over their stoic faces.  “Each of you are here because I need six of our best archers.  We have been given a task requiring the utmost secrecy.”  He paused for a moment, watching them as they shifted uncomfortably, exchanging concerned glances amongst themselves.

“This order comes directly from Lord Garävegión himself.”  He sighed heavily as he folded his arms across his chest.  “As we speak, the Great Hall is filling with those who await the official reading of Tirithiáëls’ crime and to witness his sentence.  Our task is to ensure that should the King fall...”

“Silence!”  Lárasarnë exclaimed as they erupted in denials and laments at the very thought of such an outcome.

“Lárasarnë, please, we need to understand.”  Aûraë said quietly, her voice cracking slightly as the tension heightened in the room.  “Why does he feel the need to risk his own life?  What possible good can come of it?  Why can he not send Tirithiáël into the east?”  She persisted, voicing the thoughts shared by each of them.

“Because he knows as well as you do if you think about it.”  Lárasarnë replied, raking his fingers anxiously through his long dark tendrils as he searched for the right words.  “Even if he banished him as he did Ortäuré, it would solve nothing.  Disgraced or not, he would find a way to return.  If not himself, there are others here who still hold an allegiance to him and would willingly do his bidding.”

“So, the duel...”

“I have no doubts it was a decision he did not come to lightly.”  Lárasarnë interrupted her, his gaze flickering once more over their concerned expressions.  “Listen to me.”  He stated, his tone suddenly angry as he began pacing to sort out his thoughts.

“What exactly are we supposed to be doing?”  Ivósaar asked quietly, his eyes narrowing as he noted the grim expression on the Senior Captains’ face.

“This is nothing more than a precaution.”  He stated as he stopped his pacing to look at them.  “I asked for six archers because there are six vantage points at the top of the pillars lining the Great Hall.  You will access the walkway from behind the throne, the curtain will be drawn to hide our movements.  I will understand if any of you should...”

“You want us to kill Tirithiáël if the King falls.”  Ualäir interrupting him, speaking for the first time since he entered the room.  His dark emerald eyes narrowed as they pinioned the senior captain with a hard stare.

“The order came from the Chief Counselor.”  Lárasarnë replied quietly as he nodded.  “But it comes at the request of Prince Legolas himself.  All of you...”  He paused, running his hand over his face in frustration.

“We all must understand these are strange and difficult times.”  He continued, his tone no longer angry but remained firm.  “The stirrings in Dol Guldur serve to remind us the evil once thought banished has returned.  It is not our way, the taking of a life of a kinsmen.  But the King is right, we cannot fight on two fronts, we must be united if we are to survive.  It is by Tirithiáëls’ own choices that he faces what is before him this day.  Our choice, our duty now lies with the defense of our King and nothing more.”

The silence in the small reading room grew heavy as they looked at each other, struggling with what was being asked of them.  They knew Lárasarnë had spoken the truth that none of them wanted to admit even to themselves.  As with all who lived in within the woodland realm, they were attuned with the rhythm of the forest and had felt the shifting, the unsettling stirring among the various creatures.  Their concern only grew as the large burrowing _Guḍlagūba_ found only in the southern regions of the forest had been seen as far north as the eastern most foothills of _Emyn-nu-Orod_.  Even the deer and elk had altered their customary breeding grounds farther north, closer to the Forest River. 

“I understand.”  Aûraë stated, her voice sounding far more confident than she felt as she met the gaze of their senior captain.  “I will do as you ask.”  She added as she turned toward the others, glancing at their unreadable expressions.

The silence seemed to stretch forever as Lárasarnë watched them, reading the unspoken glances and uncomfortable shifting body languages.  He had been the senior captain since before some of them were even born and he knew them well.  He understood what was being asked of them and would have accepted the task himself to spare them had the situation been different.  It was a task that required more than a single archer.

“I’m with you.”  Hathalber stated as he rose from his seat, a slight smile curling the corners of his lips as he met Aûraës’ gaze reassuringly.

“I do not see that we have much in the way of choices.”  Ivósaar sighed heavily, turning toward Lárasarnë.  “None of us would wish for what is upon us.”  He added as his gaze now swept over the faces of his comrades.  “We owe him this.”

“We owe him everything.”  Ilÿraná stated, glancing at Ualäir and Isilfarél as she walked toward Aûraë.  “We cannot sit back and do nothing as the world changes around us.  We cannot allow what Tirithiáël has done to divide us as we once were.”

“I will understand...”

“No, I understand.”  Ualäir interrupted Lárasarnë in a firm voice as he stood up, pulling his brother with him.  “Ilÿraná is right.”

“We will do as you ask.”  Isilfarél stated, a soft smile touched his lips as he met Ilÿranás’ tearful gaze.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

The soft murmur of many whispered voices fell silent as all eyes turned to the grand archway of the Great Hall.  Flanked closely by an entourage of the kings’ elite guard, Prince Legolas and Lord Elvändéruil strode purposefully toward the raised dais.  Between them, the clearly pale and strained face of Tauriel, her wide eyes flickering quickly over the myriad of faces that only blurred as she struggled against the sting of tears that threatened to betray her.  Only vaguely aware of Legolas and Elvändéruil as they tightened their grasp on her hands, her body moving like a child’s puppet between them as they ascended the stairs to the dais.  

Turning to face the expanse of the Great Hall, Legolas glanced quickly over the crowded room before looking toward the walkways at the top of the tall pillars, noting the shadowy figures of the archers.  Their presence did not bring him the comfort he had hoped for, their purpose having only one meaning, one he refused to acknowledge.  Exchanging quick glances with Elvändéruil, they scanned the armed guards lining the mezzanine walkway surrounding the Great Hall.

Within moments a slight commotion at the far end of the hall drew their attention.  Audible gasps filled the room as the large oaken doors opened wide and the tall dark haired _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_ was led into the Great Hall.  Towering head and shoulders above the armed guards, even bound in heavy chains, he was formidable.  Scowling, the scarred face and sun browned skin making him even more menacing as his dark eyes sneered at them.  He made not a sound as the guards shoved him against the wall.

“Give me a reason.”  Lieutenant Tërÿani said quietly as he drew his _Sâēx_ from its sheath, placing the tip against the fleshy part in the small of the prisoners’ back.

Whatever the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_ was about to say was cut off as clear voice Beriórwën, the Head Scribe began to read the councils’ declaration against the disgraced Tirithiáël.  Hugging themselves, stifled gasps could still be heard, the crowd watched as the former lord and counsel member was led into the room.  The large oaken doors closing behind him, securing the only passage out of the room save the grand archway near the dais.

Unlike the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_ , he was not bound as he strode confidently into the room.  Dressed in full battle armor, he squared his shoulders as he continued toward the center of the room, his gaze fixed on the Chief Scribe.  Stone faced, his ice blue eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts as he stood there in silence, his chin lifted in defiance.

Entering from the grand archway, the March Wardens separated as the king strode purposefully passed them, his attention fully taken with the dark haired elf in the center of the room.  A soft whimper escaped Tauriels’ lips as she caught sight of him, the clear sound of Beriórwëns’ voice ringing loudly in her ears as the sentence was read.

“...in a duel _Na i gurth_.”

 “No.”  The choked word slipped passed her constricting throat as the scribes’ voice fell silent and the two warriors slowly begin to circle each other.

Instinctively, Thranduils’ fingers closed around the hilt of both, the thicker _Sáterâēa_ and the slender _Sâēx_ as he studied the expression on Tirithiáëls’ face.  Cold, the once pale blue eyes stared back him like chips of ice, were empty and without feeling. 

“ _Tirithiáël is no less an enemy than any other you have faced before him.  He will not hesitate to kill you_.”  The truth of Macilvoronhûrs’ words haunted him as everything around him faded from his conscious thought, leaving nothing but his enemy.

Drawing their swords as the deadly dance began, with feigned thrusts and arcs as they tested and measured each other.  Unwilling to give him the upper hand, Thranduil was the first rush forward as he swung his blade in a close arc before him.  The sharp sounds of their weapons clashing resonated throughout the enclosed hall.  The frightened gasps of the crowd fell on deaf ears as Thranduil spun, catching the hilt of Tirithiáëls’ _Kőváē_ yet failed to dislodge it from his grasp.  Collecting himself as the rush of battle filled him, he swung the longer blade of his _Sáterâēa_ before him as he watched Tirithiáëls’ movements.

Keeping his distance, Tirithiáël smirked as he met the kings’ gaze with an icy glare.  Watching as they seemed to taunt each other, he moved around him, measuring the reach of the _Sáterâēa_ with quick thrusts as he drew the _Sâēx_ from its sheath.  Longer by his own design, his _K_ _őv_ _áē_ was still no match for a straight on attack against the wider, heavier _Sáterâēa_.

Catching sight of the slight shift in Tirithiáëls’ shoulders as the former lord swung then suddenly turned, Thranduil rushed him again.  Twisting to his left as their blades connected, Thranduil felt the thud of Tirithiáëls’ forearm against his chest as the swift flurry of their blades rang out once more within the marbled hall.  Scattered bright red droplets appeared at his feet as he spun and moved passed him, drawing his own _Sâēx_ before turning to face him.

“ _Im am ú-mui Adar_!”  Thranduil exclaimed, his deep voice echoing throughout as he charged toward him, swinging in a blinding ferocity.

Tauriel watched in horror, her grip tightening on the two hands that held tightly to her own as the near deafening sound of metal rang out once more.  The two warriors, locked in a fierce battle that seemed to go on forever as they took turns driving the other back in a wild display of clashing blades.  A strangled whimper escaped her lips as they separated, revealing to her for the first time, the bright red spattering’s on the pale marble floor between them.  Tauriel felt her knees weaken as she watched them charge once more, their bodies slamming into each other

“No!”  The horrified scream was ripped from her throat as she watched Thranduil drop to one knee, the once smeared red spattering’s now spread into a pool of crimson between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Comments are always welcome!
> 
> Sindarin Words & Phrases: 
> 
> Kőváē – Elvish made version of the Rapier which was first developed around 1500 as the Spanish espada ropera, or "dress sword”. The espada ropera was a cut-and-thrust civilian weapon for self-defense and the duel, while earlier weapons were equally at home on the battlefield.
> 
> Na i gurth – To the death
> 
> Sáterâēa – Thranduils’ sword, an Elvish version of the Japanese Katana
> 
> Sâēx – An Elvish elongated dagger.
> 
> Guḍlagūba – Large ground burrowing owl
> 
> Im am ú-mui Adar – I am not my Father
> 
> Nördyqûi – The name given to the children born of captive human women to Annûmëä, known as the necromancer of Carn Dûm during the latter days of the First Age.  
> Emyn-nu-Orod – the name of the Mountains of Mirkwood before the spiders came

**Author's Note:**

> I frequently use Sindarin words in my writing and try to put the English translation in parenthesis immediately afterward. I also use terms that require longer translations and rather than bog down the reading, the translation/explanation will always be provided in the End Notes for that specific chapter.


End file.
